


Three Years

by MartinChristopher



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Declarations Of Love, Explanations, Falling In Love, Feelings, First Kiss, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gay John Watson, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Masturbation, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, Past Violence, Post-Reichenbach, Romance, Sherlock is a bit insecure, True Love, Virgin Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-07-11 16:16:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 72,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7060012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MartinChristopher/pseuds/MartinChristopher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three years have passed since Sherlock jumped.<br/>John is still grieving and had left Baker Street.<br/>Mycroft had become a close friend and had to tell John something about the past few years, about someone who's back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Three years

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and Reviews are absolutly welcome. :-)

Three years.  
Three years after Sherlock jumped from the rooftop of St. Barts.  
Three years and John was still grieving – with the bottom of his heart.

He was grieving, mostly crying when he was alone. Alone and with nothing to do.  
The tremor in his hand was back and also the limp in his leg. Not every day, but on some days, especially when he thought too much about Sherlock, then he needed his cane and his hand was trembling.  
He had left Baker Street 221b, after a few weeks. Every night he had slept in Sherlock's bed, had waited for the soft violin music, had waited for Sherlock, had made him tea, had sat in his chair. And finally he had talked with the skull. He had been extremely exhausted and it had driven him mad, so that he had decided to leave Baker Street.  
He had decided to quit his job at the clinic.  
And he had decided to leave Greg alone with his crime scenes. It wasn’t the same without Sherlock. And he didn't want to be there without him.  
So he had moved to Potters Bar – into a lovely house with garden. Thanks to Mycroft.

Thanks to Mycroft for all what he had done, since Sherlock had jumped from the rooftop.

Two times a week he spent his time at a physiotherapy school to teach anatomy. And the rest of the week he was writing, writing books as an author. And he was quite good at this.

John had searched a new psychiatrist. Every Thursday 9 am. It helped, at least a bit.  
The worst thing was, that he felt absolutely guilty for Sherlock's suicide. It was his fault, he was Sherlock's best friend and he hadn’t seen that his friend has such big problems that its only possible solution seemed to be, jumping from a rooftop.  
And on top of that, John had seen it, had seen how Sherlock had jumped; jumped from a high building. Blood, so much blood. Things that he saw in his nightmares. There weren’t nightmares about Afghanistan, there were just nightmares about Sherlock. Every time the same one. The Jump and blood and John, who wasn’t able to stop and help Sherlock.

John had thought about the reasons.  
The reasons, why this man had jumped.  
Hadn’t he felt loved? That was the worst reasons of all – for John.  
Because Sherlock was loved, so much. John had loved him, more than that, he still was in love with this man and he loves him, with the bottom of his heart and all he has.  
As a colleague.  
As a friend.  
As a best friend.  
As a man.  
John was gay; gay as hell. He was never involved in something with a girl, not for one kiss and absolutely not for more than a kiss – but because of really bad experiences with his dad, people at school, people at the university, people he didn't even know, he had kept it a secret.  
Especially in front of Sherlock.

John has been interested in Sherlock since the first day they met each other. Thanks to Mike.  
And at the dinner at Angelo’s, Sherlock had told him that he was married to his work and John had tried not to fall in love with him.  
But he wasn’t successful, the harder he tried, the more he fell in love with this mad man. Until he gave his heart to Sherlock, totally and unconditionally.  
So he had kept his secret even deeper from Sherlock. He was afraid, that if Sherlock would know that he was gay, that he would deduce that John was in love with him. And that means, that he probably loses Sherlock's friendship. And that was the last thing he wanted. Rather Sherlock's friendship than nothing.  
And now he was dead, and John had missed the chance to say Sherlock, how much he cares about him, how much he loves him. He had mumbled it to Sherlock's grave, every week, when he visits it; then he mumbled - I love you.  
But the thought, that he will never be able to tell him that in person, makes him grief even more.

Of course he had gone out with Sarah and the other lovely ladies, but that were always just nice evenings with a woman; a nice dinner, a lovely movie night, or whatever. After dinner or a movie or a drink, he had always been in a gay bar or a club, searching for someone:  
Tall, black hair, if possible a little curly, slender, deep voice.  
Searching for someone, who looked as much as possible like Sherlock and could fuck him.  
Sometimes, or actually often, he was interrupted by Sherlock's messages.  
And so he just had his imaginations and his hand.

Now after three years, he couldn’t let him go, his heart didn’t want to let Sherlock go and so it comes, that John sometimes searched a tall, slender man, with dark hair and a deep voice and get fucked by him.

The first person, which John told that he was gay, was Mycroft. And Mycroft was the only person, who knew that John was in love with Sherlock.  
Mycroft – almost unbelievable, but Mycroft had become a close friend, a really close friend, even closer than Greg. He had taken care of John, since day one, since the day, Sherlock had jumped. They had talked so much and often with each other, not just about, how was the day, but about really intimate and deep things.  
Mycroft had changed, he had met a lovely woman, he had taken things slow with the job, wasn’t in such a high position anymore. He was wearing not only suits anymore, but also casual button shirts, jeans, sometimes even a tee shirt or nice sweater - of course expensive ones. He was wearing glasses now, had often a three-days-stubble, which really suits him and since he was with Amanda, he was in such good shape.  
Every Friday they met, mostly at Baker Street 221b with Mrs. Hudson in the afternoon for a piece of cake and a coffee or tea, and then they went to Mycroft's place or back to John, with or without Amanda, sometimes there were joined by Molly and Greg.  
And not only that, they met each other sometimes on weekends, sometimes during the week.  
They had a great chemistry and sometimes John couldn’t believe it.  
He really enjoyed the time he spent with Mycroft and he was such a good distraction. Even though they had talked much about Sherlock, for the last three years. 

And now, John know, that Mycroft had always cared about Sherlock, very much. That he didn’t knew why they both broke apart like this and that he didn’t really know why Sherlock has closed his heart in such a really extreme way.  
Mycroft had told him, that he always wanted to see Sherlock happy, that he had watched and stalked him to know that everything was fine; fine in a Sherlock way and that he didn’t knew how to handle with him, because Sherlock always got really grumpy and upset as soon as Mycroft showed up.  
And Mycroft had told him several times that he missed his brother very much. But a thing, John doesn’t knew was, that Mycroft missed Sherlock not because he was ’dead’, but just as his brother, his little brother, the brother he was before Mycroft went to the university. 

 

Today, John was appointed with Mycroft, for lunch, the F1 race in Monaco – telly of course - and maybe a takeaway for dinner, at John's place.  
As John heard the bell ringing, he went out of the kitchen, into the floor and to the door.

At the wardrobe hung Sherlock's coat and the blue scarf, as always. Mycroft and Greg had rescued both things from the police and had given it to John.


	2. He's back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He's back" - Amanda  
> That was the message, Mycroft received from his future wife, when he just had said goodbye to John at the security check on the airport.

_Two weeks earlier_

Mycroft drove over the grit in his driveway and parked the car under the carport; next to Amanda's car, his parents had parked on the street.  
He jumped almost out of the car, walked at a smart pace to the stoops, which lead to the front door. Mycroft took the five steps with two large jumps, fumbled the key in the hole and entered his house. He slipped out of his shoes and raced up the staircase to the living area. 

Amanda had written him, just three words, an hour ago.  
He's back.  
He. Is. Back. – Sherlock is back, his little brother, finally, after three long years.  
They hadn’t texted each other often, only when Sherlock had needed help from the government. Sherlock hadn’t asked about John or the other people, who thought that he was dead. He didn’t want to know what was happening, so that they were protected better.  
Mycroft had wanted to tell him about John, how sad he was, and how much he felt guilty, that Sherlock had miscalculated John’s grieving. However, Sherlock had cut him off, every time when he said, that he wanted to talk about John. 

Mycroft was excited, he was happy that his little brother was back.  
He entered the living room, where his parents and his fiancee Amanda were sitting on the couch, Sherlock sat in the armchair.  
“Sherlock!” Mycroft said out of breath, and eyed his younger brother.  
There he sat, with shorter hair, a bit brighter too, he wore a grey button-up shirt and black trousers, no shoes. He looked better and healthier.  
Sherlock looked up, eyed the man, who stood between the door frame.  
Mycroft had a three-day stubble, wore his nearly round, light brown glasses, a pink-coloured button up shirt, checkered, the first button was open, and blue jeans.  
“Is that you Mycroft or have I another brother?” Sherlock asked.  
Mycroft didn’t respond, he took the few steps to Sherlock, was overexcited and wanted to pull his brother out of the armchair to hug him, but Sherlock stood up and reached out just his hand.  
And Mycroft took it. 

Sherlock took a seat again, Mycroft pulled up the armchair stool and took a seat, too.  
“How it comes that you’re engaged, brother?”  
“Just met that lovely woman, two years ago. And that’s what happened, when you find a person, that completes you and makes you a better person. You move in together and get married.” Mycroft said, and looked briefly to Amanda.  
They smiled at each other.  
Sherlock just nodded. 

Silence.  
Silence, but Mycroft had the feeling that it was extremely loud, at least, in his ears.  
He didn’t know what to say. He had thought that Sherlock would write him that he comes back, maybe a few days before he rang the bell at his house.  
Thank goodness that John wasn’t here any longer. A few hours ago, they had lunch together, with Amanda and his parents. Then he had driven him to the airport.  
He felt guilty, absolutely guilty, that he was pretending Sherlock would be dead in front of John. Despite the fact that they were friends and that John trusts him so much, possibly as much as Mycroft trusts him. And that was a lot.  
John was a really good and close friend; and he could say with absolutely guarantee and clarity that John and Amanda had made him a better person. 

Amanda cleared her throat, looked to Carlton and Violet and said,  
“We could go to the kitchen and make dinner.”  
The Holmes parents nodded and stood up with Amanda, who stroked over Mycroft's shoulder and left the living room with his parents. 

Mycroft faced Sherlock.  
“Can you tell me something about John?” Sherlock asked, before his brother could say something.  
“It depends on what you want to know, Sherlock.” Mycroft said.  
“Everything obviously. Where is he, I want to say hello.”  
Mycroft eyed him and shook his head.  
“No, Sherlock. You won't go to him and say hello!”  
“It’s not your business!”  
“It’s my business and I tell you, that you won't go to him, say hello and pretend that the last three years weren’t happend. And John isn’t there anyway. So you have to wait!” Mycroft said with a stern voice.

Sherlock wrinkled his forehead.  
“You know why I have done this, Mycroft!” He spilled out. “So it’s my right to explain it to him. Where is John?”  
“I wasn’t saying that you’re not allowed to talk to him anymore. I said you have to wait! John is on vacation, I’ve brought him to the airport, that’s why I wasn’t here when you arrived.”  
“What’s with your minions, that you're doing it on your own? Vacation, where is that?” Sherlock snarled.  
Mycroft didn't respond to the first question. “I’m not going to tell you that Sherlock. It’s his vacation, and he deserves it; you’re not going to spoil that! It’s not the right moment to rise from the dead. You have to wait!  
“Piss off Mycroft, give me my keys, and I’m off, back to Baker Street and then I'll call you and tell you where John is.”  
“Of course, I give you the keys, but you won't find anything, except Mrs. Hudson. John had left Baker Street a long time ago, a few weeks after you were ‘dead’.” Mycroft said in a calm voice.  
“John had left Baker Street? He wouldn’t do that!”  
“He would and he has. And I’m not gonna tell you his new address. I wanted to talk with you about John, but you had interrupted me and told me you didn’t want to hear this. You have miscalculated John's care about you; you’ve left him behind like a maltreated dog. You know nothing about the last three years, and I’m not letting you go to John and shock him to death!” Mycroft stood up in rage. 

Sherlock came to his feet too and faced Mycroft.  
“You're not his daddy, and you're not mine. So you can’t tell me what I have to do and what I’m not allowed to do. I want to see him Mycroft!”  
“Did I have to repeat myself? You! Have! To! Wait!” Mycroft said loudly and angry, pounded his fist on the coffee table. “I tell you what Sherlock. Sit down and listen!” His voice was loud, was to hear in the kitchen. Mycroft grabbed Sherlock and pressed him down in the armchair. “Stay there!” He pointed his finger at Sherlock, who pinched his eyes together, his mouth was a thin line; he looked angry. 

Mycroft cleared his throat, inwardly he was happy, really happy, for real, that Sherlock was back. He was worried about him all the time, and now he sat in his living room, alive and healthy. And that was great. However, he knew John wouldn’t take it easy, that Sherlock had lied, and he had lied and Molly had lied as well as Amanda and his parents. He didn’t want to force John into it without a warning.  
Of course, John was able to laugh, to make jokes, to fool around, to go to pubs, the cinema; he has a social life, but as soon as Sherlock becomes the topic, he was mentally and emotionally not stabile. John was his friend and that he was alright was more important at the moment. 

Mycroft lifted his hand to cut off Sherlock, who wanted to say something.  
“It’s my turn! Be quiet, listen and stay in that chair, brother! The morning after your death, I went to Baker Street, to visit John, he was sleeping in your bed, with your blood wet coat and scarf. Red eyes. The next weeks, he slept every night in your bed, at daytime he was sitting in your chair, making two cups of tea, making food for two, at some days he searched you and called you in the flat, until he remembered that you’re dead. When I was coming around, he looked at me with big hoping eyes, and when he saw that it isn’t you, the tears came up. At the end he talked with your skull, was exhausted, tired, scared, so he decided to leave Baker Street. He decided to quit his part-time job at the clinic, and he decided to not going on crime scenes anymore. His limp is back as well as his trembling hand; he needs his cane; the symptoms are there especially when he thinks too much about you. And on top, he feels guilty for your death, he thinks that he was a really bad friend, who hasn’t noticed, that his best friend is tired of life, and that he wasn’t able to hold him back from jumping. He saw you jump Sherlock, he saw it and you maybe have healed his nightmares about Afghanistan, but now he has nightmares about you. He’s still grieving as if you jumped yesterday. And you’re right; I’m not his daddy, but I’m his friend! You have to wait until John is back, when he’s back then I'll talk with him and then it is his choice when he wants to talk with you. He has been waited for three years, so I think that you’re able to wait a few weeks, Sherlock. And that’s my last word! He’s my friend, he has made me a better person; he trusts me, and I’ve lied to him for three years. The only thing I can do now, is to force him not into a situation like that. And that’s really nothing to discuss, Sherlock.” 

Sherlock was still sitting in the armchair, had listened to his older brother, and he didn’t know how to deal with the news. The man in front of him looked different, he behaves differently and whether he could believe it or not, Mycroft had found a woman, who wanted to be with him. Amy – or something like that. There were a lot of different things, but he was absolutely sure, that Mycroft had told the truth. And the truth wasn’t good.  
He didn’t have friends, not one in his whole life, except John. He didn’t know how to handle it, how to feel about those things Mycroft had told him. It wasn’t good.  
Maybe, but really just maybe, his brother was right and he had miscalculated it. Maybe he had needed a Plan B for John. A Plan B, when he would be depressed and grieving like this, that Mycroft would’ve told him that Sherlock just faked it, with good reasons, that he would come back one day.  
And so Sherlock said nothing, he just nodded and felt sick when he thought about John. 

Mycroft breathed, closed the distance between Sherlock and himself. He laid his hand on Sherlock's shoulder and squeezed it.  
“Do you want to stay for dinner and a sleep over or would you rather be alone at Baker Street?”  
Sherlock looked up.  
The options were Mycroft and maybe some more information about John or Baker Street without John, but also without Mycroft. He thought about it and he thought, that he would be able to deal with Mycroft.  
“What’s for dinner?” Sherlock asked.  
“I think that Amanda wanted to make salad and lasagna.”  
“Okay. And can we talk about John after dinner or tomorrow?” Sherlock asked.  
“If you behave yourself, then we can do that. But let me tell you something, if you asked me where he is or where he lives, then the conversation is over. And don’t you dare to search for him on your own.”  
Sherlocks lips drew again a thin line; he nodded grudgingly.  
“By the way, it’s good to have you back, little brother.” Mycroft said with a warm welcoming voice. 

Sherlock made a disparaging sound. 


	3. A book for the night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft and Sherlock have a little conversation, and Mycroft gave his brother two things to bridge the time.

-Still two weeks earlier.-

 

After dinner, Mycroft’s and Sherlock’s parents were gone.  
Even Sherlock had eaten the small bowl with salad and his plate with lasagna, which Amanda had brought him to the kitchen table.  
After the parents were gone, Amanda told the boys to go to the living room and have a drink, and that she clean up the kitchen and call a friend of her, so that Sherlock and Mycroft would have some time for themselves.

The brothers entered the living room again; Mycroft looked at Sherlock and asked,  
“What would you fancy?”  
“Nothing, I’m fine.” Sherlock said and sat down in the armchair. “Thanks.” He added after a moment.  
Mycroft nodded, went to the little bar and got himself a Whiskey, before he came back and sat down on the sofa. 

Mycroft crossed his legs.  
“Well, Sherlock... do you just want to sit there or talk about you and the last three years... or about John?” Mycroft asked, and took a sip from his Whiskey.  
“John. Anything else is a waste of time; it’s obvious that I’m still alive, so it doesn’t matter what happened in the last three years, at least - not today.”  
“Good, you know the rules, let’s start.” Mycroft nodded, and put is glass down on the coffee table.

Sherlock watched his brother; it wasn’t familiar to see him like that; with his glasses, the stubble, these casual clothes, even though they were quite expensive; and then that body, which was in a good shape, and his behavior. He was unsure how to deal with this new Mycroft.  
“You said that John is your friend. What am I supposed to make of that?”  
“Like I told you. He’s my friend. I looked after him the last three years, and it turned out, that we have a great chemistry. So we spend mostly every Friday afternoon and evening together; cake and tea with Mrs. Hudson in the afternoon and in the evening - well different things; at John’s place or here, with Amanda or without, sometime with others; watching telly or just talking, playing games. Sometimes we're going to a pub or bar, the cinema, theatre, restaurant - that sort of things.”  
“Unbelievable that you were able to make a friend and find a woman, who can handle you.” Sherlock said with a waspish voice.

Mycroft rolled his eyes and took a second sip.  
“Come on Sherlock, be nice. Aren’t you able to have an adult conversation! You can be really proud to have a friend like John.”  
“Is he still my friend?” Sherlock asked; his voice was a bit unsure.  
“Yes he is; he still is. And I think, that he still will be your friend, when you two see each other again, but you must be patient with John. Let him take the time he needs for this.”  
Sherlock watched his brother, sighed and said after a while,  
“I’ll try it. I don’t know if I’m able to, but I’ll try.”  
“You know; you can stay here, with Amanda and me, as long as you want to. You don’t have to be alone, and you don’t have to be with us every single minute if you stay here. It’s okay when you stay here and have time on your own as much as you want. It’s just an offer Sherlock, think about it. I don’t want to control or monitor you, and I think that you would like Amanda. I mean we’re at work the whole day, but you would have someone to talk with in the evening, someone who would help you with this John-thing.” Mycroft said with a calm and truthful voice.  
“I’ll think about your offer, brother.”  
They looked at each other, and Mycroft nodded.

Mycroft took another sip of his Whiskey and twirls the glass in his hand.  
“May I ask what he’s doing right now; when he isn’t at the clinic and the crime scenes anymore?”  
“Yes you can,” Mycroft said and nodded “He wasn’t able to be a doctor anymore, or to be precise; he doesn’t feel able to be a good doctor anymore, because of his leg and his trembling hand. Since two and a half years, he’s teaching anatomy and first aid in a physiotherapy school – two full days per week. Sometimes he teaches other medical stuff as a replacement, then he’s three days, maybe four days at the school, or at least for the lessons and some pre-arrangements and the post-processing. Well, and otherwise he writes books.”  
Sherlock bowed his head, took the news to his mind palace, to John’s big room.  
“Does he like that; the teaching and the writing?”  
“Yes. He likes both things, he feels comfortable in the school and with his author life.”  
Sherlock nodded, wanted to ask something as Amanda entered the room with Mycroft’s mobile phone in her hand.  
She smiled warmly at Sherlock and turned her head to Mycroft, smiled and handed him the mobile phone after she had sat down next to him.  
“John had sent a text.” Amanda said with a warm voice.  
Sherlock turned his head to Mycroft; his heart was beating faster.  
“What’s up with him; was everything well with his flight?” Mycroft asked.  
“Don’t know, love, I don’t read your text messages, I was just ready with my phone call and your mobile phone blinked. He had sent a picture.” Amanda smiled at him.  
Sherlock watched them - she was telling the truth, she doesn’t read messages on other mobile phones, at least she wasn’t a liar.

Mycroft smiled at her, unlocked the iPhone and opened John’s message.  
“Read it out.” Amanda said, wanted to know if everything was fine with her good friend John. He was the person, who had introduced her Mycroft.  
Mycroft cleared his throat and read the text out loud.  
“Hey Myc, flight was well but boring; movie was really shitty. Location is as great as last year, even if the house wasn’t available this time. Hotel is quite nice. Thanks for lunch and driving me to the airport, mate. Have a lovely evening with Amanda, btw greetings to her. See you when I’m back. Do you fancy a lunch and a Formula 1 afternoon in two weeks time, my place? It’s enough now I suppose. – John”  
“Aaw, that’s lovely, greet him back and say him that I like the picture.” Amanda said happily.  
Mycroft nodded and replied, while Sherlock was watching both of them - curious.  
It was strange to hear the name Myc and the word mate in relation to Mycroft and in context with John.

Mycroft sent the message and lifted his head; he smiled at Sherlock, opened the picture of John again and shoved the phone over the coffee table to his brother.  
Sherlock looked at Mycroft, was a bit surprised that he was allowed to see the picture. His eyes lowered their gaze, and he looked at the picture, eyed John.  
It was a Selfie, obviously on the balcony of his hotel room. He was standing there with a black polo shirt. He wore black sunglasses, in which one could see the reflection of the balcony railing and John’s arm, his hand and the phone. He smiled, with his mouth closed. His hair was a bit longer, has a fluffy wave; it was blonde, sandy-blonde, with a lot of grey strands. Cheeks and chin showed a little stubble. He looked handsome.

Sherlock eyed John for a while, felt his heart beat faster. He looked up to Mycroft as the display went black.  
“That’s... that’s John?!”  
“Yes, that’s John... he’s quite a handsome dude and doll, isn’t he?" Amanda answered with a wide grin.  
Mycroft smirked and stood up; Sherlock felt his cheeks flush.

Mycroft came to Sherlock, squeezed his shoulder.  
“I’ll show you your room. I know it’s just 9 am, but I think it was a quite hard day for all of us. We can come back to our conversation tomorrow, Sherlock.”  
His little brother looked up with questioning eyes.  
“Can you send me that picture?”  
Mycroft smiled and nodded.  
“I’ll send it to you, but I want to give you something else before.” Mycroft said, and went to the big bookshelf.  
He searched a book, pulled it out and came back to Sherlock.

Mycroft handed it to Sherlock.  
“It’s not yours forever because there is a personal dedication for me, but you can read it and maybe in a few weeks you can ask for your personal book and dedication.” Mycroft said with a smile.  
Sherlock grasped the book and eyed the cover.  
It was a little, thick book, with a hard green cover and an extra wrapper. On the cover, one could see a forest, mountains, big birds and a rising red sun. The rests of the colours were black, white, green and grey, which looked a bit like an old-dark-lilac.  
Sherlock read the name of the book, written in white letters on the mountains; and the name of the author, written in black, smaller than the title. 

The Hobbit  
J.H. Watson

He stroked with his fingertips slightly across the cover, felt the vibration of his mobile phone – Mycroft had sent him the picture.  
He wasn’t tired, but now he knew what he would do the whole night.  
Reading John’s book and looking at that handsome picture of him.


	4. The truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft is on his way to John and their Formula 1 afternoon, after that he wants to tell John the truth.

_Present, Potters Bar, John's place_

John was standing in the kitchen, making some pasta for Mycroft and himself, as the doorbell rang. He put the wooden spoon aside and went to the front door.  
Since a few days, John was back in the UK, back at home; he had sent Mycroft and Amanda a card from Italy, Positano, and on Wednesday, Amanda had picked him up at the Heathrow Airport, and as nice and warm-hearted as she was, she drove him back to Potters Bar.

John opened the door.  
Just in front of him stood Mycroft, with a big, warm smile on his face.  
“Hey Myc, it’s great to see you.” John said and let him in.  
They hugged each other amicably; John clapped on Mycroft’s shoulder while Mycroft squeezed John’s upper arm.  
“It’s good to see you, too. Great to have you back. Oh, and your card was in the mail yesterday, finally.” Mycroft smirked.  
“Oh Jesus, I’ve sent it after day four. Next time I’ll bring it to the UK and give it to you in person.” John grinned. “Saving money, you know?”  
They walked back into the kitchen; the pasta was almost ready. Mycroft leaned against a kitchen drawer.  
“Oh, come on, as if you have to save money after your book came like a bombshell.”  
John grinned and shrugged his shoulders.  
“Wasn’t supposed to be like that.”  
“It’s a great story and you know that, John. Don’t be such a shy guy.” Mycroft smiled.  
“Yeah, thanks Myc. Come on, let’s have lunch and after that the race is on air, we can talk later about my fame.”  
John smiled charmingly, and Mycroft laughed.

John had been looking forward to this afternoon with Mycoft. He was a good fellow, and it was always fun to watch telly with Mycroft. He hadn’t seen any movies, series or shows, before he had met Amanda, or to be precise, before John had introduced Amanda to him. And now, Mycroft was totally into it, especially in Dr. Who.  
It was nice to spend some free time with him, and it doesn’t matter what they did. Regardless of whether they just sitting around, have a few pints in a pub or a nice evening in the theatre or cinema, it was always quite nice and comfortable with him.  
John knew Mycroft had changed a bit, had set his priorities in a new way, but he couldn’t understand why Sherlock hadn’t liked him. And he knew, he would never know.

Mycroft had been also looking forward to this Sunday and John. It was great to have him back in the UK, although he really has granted him that vacation.  
The last two weeks were a bit nerve-racking, with Sherlock back in London and the knowledge that he has to tell it John.  
Sherlock has stayed the last two weeks at Mycroft’s place, and Mycroft had been totally right; Sherlock liked Amanda. Sherlock was still there; they hadn’t talked this much, but it was a beginning and Mycroft really appreciated that Sherlock was back in London. He was eating and drinking and sleeping almost like a normal person; that’s what made him look younger and healthier. And also, Mycroft liked the new haircut.  
His brother had finished the book in the first night at Mycroft’s place; he had asked for more, but there weren’t more. John had published it a year ago, and it came like a bombshell; out of nowhere. It was published, and the people fell on that book like maniacs. And that included Mycroft, as well as Amanda, Greg and Molly, even Mrs. Hudson liked it. And now John was writing a kind of sequel, but he didn’t reveal one single information.

Mycroft wasn’t in a good mood today, at least – inwardly. Sherlock had begged at the breakfast table, that he tells it John today, and he promised to do that. He knew John would do something bad with him; punch him or scream at him, torture him or worse - murder him. He would speak with him after the lunch and the Formula 1 race.

 

After lunch, they chilled down on the sofa, next to each other - with some sweets and chips. They watched the race, which started with a lot of rain and seven safety car rounds. There were a lot of crashes, a miscommunication between the driver at the pole position and his team, so that he lost his pole position after an embarrassing pit stop. The rest of the race, he tried to catch Hamilton, but didn’t manage it. 

John had laid his legs on the coffee table as well as Mycroft. He grabbed some chips and put them into his mouth while Mycroft turned his head to him. Now or never, he told himself.  
“John?” Mycroft asked carefully.  
John turned his head and just nodded; his mouth was filled with chips.  
“I have to tell you something... ”  
John bowed his head and swallowed the chips.  
“What’s up mate? Is there something with Amanda?” John asked curiously.  
“No, no... it’s fine; it’s all fine with Amanda.”  
“Okay, I thought that you had a fight with her or something, you look a bit sick. Are you alright Myc?”  
“No, it has nothing to do with Amanda. And I’m not just looking sick; I am feeling sick. I... John, I’ve lied to you.” Mycroft said in a lower voice.

John sat up straight, eyed Mycroft and wiped his hands on his thighs. He took a deep breath, scratched his neck.  
“Is it a small and good lie, or a big and good one... or a bad one which is small or big?”  
Mycroft sat up, looked at John and swallowed; he bit his lower lip and scratched his beard.  
“It’s a... big one, a really big one and a bad one too... and that’s maybe an understatement, but I think, that lie becomes a big and good one in a few weeks or months.”  
John watched him.  
“Do I want to hear that?”  
Mycroft nodded.  
“Yes, I guess you want to hear that. John,... I’m sorry; I’m really sorry. What I have to say isn’t easy. I’m really sorry for that. I didn’t want it like th... ”  
John raised a hand and stopped Mycroft's babbling.  
“Just say it Myc. Just say it. You can’t change that back. Please stop that babbling and tell me what you were lying about.”

Mycroft took a deep breath, looked at John, whose face was serious and a bit afraid.  
“John,... it’s about Sherlock, he... he faked his death, because of Moriarty, there wasn’t another possibility,... Sherlock is alive... and he’s back in London.” His voice was low, apologetically and fast.

John’s eyes were big, his mouth open; he looked very sick. The heart was racing against his chest like mad, it hammered against his rib cage. It was incredibly loud in his ears. His head was buzzing, his left hand was trembling. That couldn’t be true.  
“You’re kidding Mycroft! Please tell me that this is just a really bad prank! Please tell me that you haven’t lied to me since three years.”  
Mycroft said nothing, scratched his neck, looked to John.  
After a few moments of silence, Mycroft said,  
“I can’t, that would be a lie.”

John watched his friend, pressed his right hand on the trembling one; he gasped for air.  
“No!” John said with a hopeless voice, his eyes were already filled with tears. “No. Mycroft. No.”  
His heart was still racing like mad; a single first tear rolled down his cheek.  
Mycroft laid his hand on John’s shoulder, but his friend slipped away to the other end of the sofa.  
“Don’t!” He wiped away his tears and cleared his throat. “Don’t touch me or I will punch you Mycroft. Are you... are you mad or something? What’s wrong with you? You’re my friend! I’m trusting you and now you tell me that... Sherlock... that Sherlock is... alive?” He stood up in rage.

Mycroft looked up to him; he sat there like a little boy who had done something really bad.  
“John... I’m sorry, I wanted to tell you... I wanted to talk with Sherlock, that you aren’t in a good state, but he always cuts me off; he didn’t want to hear that, it was too dangerous, for him and for you, at least that’s what he told me. I’m so sorry John.”  
John looked at him; his eyes were red; the tears were running down his cheeks. He was sad; it hurts; he was disappointed and upset, grumpy and mad with Mycroft and with Sherlock.

The tears were still running while he said loud and upset,  
“You are a fucking prick! You’re just a fucking prick! You and your brother!” He snuffled and dashed away his tears with the back of his right hand, the other one was still trembling. More tears were running down his cheeks. “You’re my friend Mycroft! My friend, as well as your mad brother. We’ve talked about so many things. After... after Sherlock... you know... after that you were the first person who was at my side; you were the first person, who made me laugh and smile again, who was available every time I needed you; you came to Baker Street, stayed there after a nightmare and you came to Potters Bars to do the same. You were the first person... I mean from the persons I met after I returned from Afghanistan, which I have told that I’m gay! Jesus, you fucking git, I’ve told you that I’m in love with your brother like a maniac.”  
He kneaded his left hand, dashed away the tears again, but the cheeks were already wet again.

Mycroft played with his hands, didn’t look up to John. It was terrible to see him cry.  
“I don’t know what to say John. I’m terribly sorry for this. I know you’ve trusted me; you still can. I would never tell Sherlock that you’re gay and in love with him, without your permission. It was all for your own safety; I know that doesn’t make sense at the moment, but it will; it will make sense. I promise. You’re important to me John, and please don’t doubt that I’m your friend. I didn’t fake that, that’s real, John. And I’m very proud to have a friend like you. And I would love to have you as my brother in law. I can’t change that back, I’m sorry. It will make sense in a few weeks or months.”

John gasped for air; the tears streamed over his face; he snuffled, kneaded his hand. Three years he had thought, that he was a terribly friend, had thought that he would never be able to say Sherlock how much he loved him, and now his best friend and probably the love of his life was alive. He couldn’t understand that.  
“How long... how long is he back?” John sobbed.  
“Two weeks... Shortly after you were gone through the security area at the airport, Amanda texted me, that he’s back.”  
“Why haven’t you called me?! Why Mycroft... why?”  
“I didn’t want to spoil your holiday, and I wanted to tell you that in person. Sorry.”

John looked through is red and swollen eyes. His head buzzed; the hand trembled; his face was grey; the nose was running; he snuffled again and again; and the tears were rolling down his cheek like mad, made his face wet.  
He bridged the few steps to Mycroft, who looked up to him. He looked sick, honestly heart broken, because of John.  
However, John couldn’t hold back; he punched Mycroft hard – with his fist, right on the nose.  
His friend was bleeding; the blood dropped from his nose to his button-up shirt.

John shook his hand, looked at Mycroft.  
“I’m sorry, but I can’t think straight. And you deserved it. And I’m feeling better, a bit... at least better in the context that you lied to me.”  
He buried his wet face in his hands, cried and sobbed – heart broken.  
“I hate you Myc. I just hate you.”  
His whole body trembled.

Mycroft stood up, wiped with the back of his hand over his face, over the blood. It hurts, very much indeed, but John was right; he deserved it.

Mycroft stepped a little closer and caught that trembling, sobbing body in his arms. He held him close and muttered softly,  
“No John... you don’t hate me.”

John sank into his friend’s hug.


	5. Still friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft is still at John's place.

John hung in Mycroft’s protectively hug.  
His body was shaking; he pressed the face against Mycroft’s collarbone; it was wet; the tears were rolling steadily.  
Mycroft nursed him softly in his arms, forth and back, slowly and gently. The blood was dripping from his nose.

John couldn’t think straight; it was too much; too much for his small body and his big heart. He didn’t know what to think. His head was still buzzing, and he didn’t know if he wanted to wake up from a bad dream or to believe that Sherlock was alive. His Sherlock, that man who saved his life; he had met him in the right moment, as his life was destroyed; destroyed by nightmares, losing his job and PTSD.  
He had needed Mycroft’s hug; it was balm for his broken soul.  
The shaking and trembling of his body stopped slowly as well as the crying and sobbing.  
He moved his arms, hugged Mycroft back and hung on for dear life.

Mycroft stroked John’s back.  
“He’s back; everything is fine John; everything is fine. I’m here. You’ve him back” Mycroft murmured with a stuffy nose. “Do you want me to stay?”  
John nodded slowly.  
Mycroft loosened his hug, looked down to John, who looked up at him. They swallowed hard.  
Mycroft because of John’s heart-broken look; John because of the blood on Mycroft’s face.

John cleared his throat.  
“Sorry... for that, I’ll fix it. Sit... just sit down.” John mumbled and broke apart. “And hung your head forward... well, and press your nasal wings with two fingers against each other - for several minutes; I’ll tell you when you can stop. It didn’t look like it’s broken. I’m back in a tick.” He ordered with a clearer voice.  
Mycroft nodded and sat down while John disappeared.

At the time, when John came back into the living room, Mycroft sat on the sofa; his head hung forward; he pressed his nasal wings against each other. John laid a cold, wet cloth on his friend’s neck and squatted down in front of Mycroft.  
He patted the blood away with a sterile pad.  
“I don’t want to be in the way, when you’re really angry.” Mycroft said.  
“I’m sorry Myc, I... I couldn’t hold that back. It was necessary to feel better.”  
“It’s okay. It’s another way to get patients; doing the injuries on your own and then fix it. It’s like a firefighter, who starts the fire.” Mycroft smiled and breathed through his mouth.  
John smiled a bit.

Mycroft looked at John while his friend took care of him. He laid his hand on John’s upper arm; caressed him with the thumb.  
John looked into Mycroft's eyes, swallowed and murmured,  
“You can stop; it isn’t bleeding anymore. It’s possible that you will look a bit... damaged the next few days. Sorry.” John said and took Mycroft’s hand away from its nasal wings as well as the damp cloth from its neck.  
He cleaned Mycroft’s nose and then the hand.  
“I’m right back... then we can go on with our conversation.”  
He disappeared before Mycroft could say a word.

While John was cleaning his hands and the cloth in the bathroom, Mycroft sent a text to Amanda, that he would stay at John's place and be at home the next evening after work.

John entered the living room and sat down on the sofa again. He ran his hand across his face, then through his hair. The other hand lay on his thigh; he kneaded the slightly trembling hand.  
“Am I the only person who thought... that?” John asked insecure.  
“No... no you’re not. A few persons knew it... me, our parents, Amanda since a while now and Molly. Um, well,... John, um, you’re now the last person, who learns that he is back. Greg and Mrs. Hudson and the others knew it since a week.” Mycroft said and squeezed John’s shoulder. “Look... John, you’re such a good and close friend, I didn’t want to tell you that via text or a call. I didn’t want that you’re alone when you get the news. I wanted to talk to you in person and well - you were on vacation; that’s why I have waited.”  
John nodded slowly, rubbed his fingertips across his temples, he has headaches.

John’s heart was racing; he massaged his temples and his forehead.  
“Does he know where I am? Did you tell him something about me? Is he... is he okay?” John asked fast, there were so many question in his head.  
“I haven’t told him where you are, and I have asked him not to search you. It was our deal; I’m going to talk with you, and then it is your decision when you would like to see him. And he told me to try to be patient. He knows, that you’re no longer at Baker Street, that you’re not longer at the clinic and crime scenes... he knows, that you work as a medical teacher and write books. By the way, he had read your book, and he asked for more, I think he really likes it. And well, he was at our place, when you sent that picture of you, you know, from the hotel room; I showed him the picture. He was surprised how you look like. And he’s fine. His hair is shorter, less curly, a bit brighter, slightly other clothes; he looks healthier. I think we both have changed in the last three years.”

John listened, nodded, scratched his neck. He was surprised that Sherlock had read the book, but he was more curious about something else.  
“Was he surprised in a positive or negative way? And do you have a picture of him? What’s that all about, why was it necessary to fake such a... thing?”  
“I’m sorry,... I haven’t a picture of him. He was positive with your look.” Mycroft smirked a bit “He had asked if that is you and Amanda said, that you're a dude and a doll, then he flushed. I think, he finds you quite handsome.”  
John’s cheeks flushed and he scratched his neck again.

Mycroft squeezed John’s upper arm.  
“Your other question, it’s a bit complicated. The simple version is, that Moriarty was a psychopath, who loved to play games with other people. He told Sherlock that he must jump, or Greg, Mrs. Hudson and you would die, immediately. It was his only solution at this time, to fake it, to fake his... ”  
John cuts him off.  
“Don’t say that word!”  
“... to fake that. He wanted to save and protect you and Mrs. Hudson and Greg; in the last three years he... eliminated Moriarty’s network, to be sure, that you were all fine and in safety. I think you should talk with Sherlock about that in more detail. I can’t give you all the answers, not because I don’t want to, just because I don’t know all the answers.”

“It’s too much Myc... I can’t handle this at the moment. It’s just too much; I mean,... I thought that I was a horrible friend for the last three years, who didn’t notice that his friend is tired of life, and I thought that I had missed the chance to tell him the truth, about me, about my feelings for him. I saw him... on the rooftop, on the ground, with all that blood. I can’t deal with it; not now. I mean, I was at his grave... three years, every week. Since three years, I have nightmares, frequently; I need the cane sometimes, not because I haven’t enough action, because I’m grieving, because I'm thinking too much about him; it’s the other way round. My hand is trembling as well. It’s just too much, Myc. I don’t think, that I want to see him right now. I need some time for this.” John swallowed hard.  
He rubbed across his face, breathed for air.

Mycroft patted John’s shoulder.  
“That’s okay; I have talked about that with Sherlock. He said it’s okay; he will try to wait for you, and the last two weeks he managed it quite well. I think he misses you as much as you miss him. He begged this morning during breakfast, that I am telling you the truth today. John, if Sherlock asks me about today, am I allowed to tell him what you have said, and what you have done?”

John didn’t say a word, he thought about the things Mycroft had said and after a few minutes of silence, John looked at him and nodded.  
“As long as you make sure, that he didn’t deduce that I’m gay or in love with him. That’s something between Sherlock and me and when I’m able to meet him again, I want to tell him that on my own. Some day.”  
Mycroft nodded.

John nodded, too. He had the urgent need to cry - not just a bit. He had the urgent need to cry and sob a lot, the whole evening, the whole night, the whole next week.  
He pressed his thumb and the forefinger on the bridge of his nose, kneaded his left hand. He was confused. The truth was; he didn’t want to see Sherlock right now, but on the other side and that was also the truth he wanted and needed to see him, he wanted to hug him, to clung at him, never let him go again.

Mycroft put his hand on the trembling one from John.  
“John, I’m staying here all night, okay. I’m there if you need me. You know I am. How about a takeaway, and if you want we go on with talking about Sherlock, or I distract you, we are watching telly, and I make you laugh and annoy you with my questions during the program.”

“I’m for the second one... watching telly and hear your silly, annoying questions.” John murmured with a light smile.

 

And so it comes that Mycroft and John ordered Italian takeaway and hung on the sofa; Mycroft with his constantly annoying, silly questions, because he didn’t understand the meaning of that new telly program, and John next to him, cuddling with a blue, soft scarf, answering all the questions with a chuckle.


	6. A good or bad sign?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amanda is at home with Sherlock and tell him, that Mycroft doesn't come home tonight.

_At Mycroft’s and Amanda’s place_

Sherlock hadn’t been on a case with Greg since he was back. And to tell the truth, he didn’t feel the urge to go on some one soon. He was even so used to John’s presence or at least to talk with John about the case, that he didn’t feel the thrill without John anymore. However, he helped Greg with some cases via texts and calls.

He spent the whole day in his mind palace, was lying in the guestroom, Mycroft has provided to him. They hadn’t talked much in the last two weeks, but at least they hadn’t fought with each other; and Sherlock began to like the new Mycroft, as well as Amanda.  
She was smart, clever, funny, and she could handle him. She was an ordinary woman, but in a very special and lovely way, it felt like she was extraordinary.  
But as nice as she was, Sherlock would have scared her away if John would have dated her.

Sherlock heard the knock on the door and then Amanda’s voice.  
“Sherlock, dinner is ready. Are you coming or didn’t you want anything? I can put something away for later.”  
Sherlock stood up from the bed and opened the door.  
“Is Mycroft back?”  
Amanda looked up at him and shook her head.  
“No Sherlock, I’m sorry, he isn’t, he texted me, that he would stay in... well, stay at John’s place. He won’t be back until tomorrow evening. But I have made some pasta for the two of us, if you like.” She said softly with no pressure.  
Sherlock bowed his head, he didn’t like the fact, that Mycroft wouldn’t come back tonight. Mycroft had said this morning, that he would go to John for lunch and that car race; Formula 1 or something like that; and maybe for some takeaway afterwards, but he didn’t mention that he would stay there the whole night.  
“Okay... I’m coming with you.” Sherlock said and went with Amanda into the kitchen.

While Amanda filled the plates and the glasses, Sherlock sat down on one chair, playing with his fork.  
“Is this normal, Amanda? That Mycroft stays there?” Sherlock asked curious.  
“Yes, generally it is Sherlock.” Amanda said and put down the plates, then sat down. “Sometimes, you know, when they watch too much telly, have a few beers or other drinks or they are going out in London; and if they’re too tired to drive home, then Mycroft has a sleep over at John’s place or John is sleeping here in the guestroom.”  
Sherlock listened, nodded and looked at the pasta, he pointed with the fork to them.  
“Um... thanks for that.”  
“You’re welcome.” She smiled at him gently.

They ate for a while until Sherlock picked at the last few tortellini.  
“It isn’t normal this time, isn’t it? It’s a bad sign.”  
“You are the one who can make this amazing deductions, Sherlock.” Amanda smiled and drank a sip of her water.  
“I don’t know, I’m a bit confused at the moment. Mycroft changed so much... and John in some way. I mean not in a bad way, but it’s different and I wasn’t here the last three years. I think you know him better; John, I mean.”  
Amanda bowed her head and put the fork next to her plate and looked at Sherlock.  
“I think it is good and bad. It’s both Sherlock. I think it’s a good sign for Mycroft, maybe a bit for you. If Mycroft stays at John’s place, then John forgave him that lie and that’s a bit good for you isn’t it? If he forgave Mycroft, then probably he will forgive you, too. However... it’s more a bad sign for you, if I’m honest... and for John. If Mycroft stays there, then John isn’t in a good state. I think, Mycroft wants to stay, so John has someone to talk and someone who can comfort him, at least that evening and the night. I would say, that you must be patient for another few weeks, Sherlock; until you will see John.”  
“I don’t like what you’re saying.” Sherlock admitted in a low voice.

Amanda looked softly at him.  
“Look, Sherlock, it’s a big thing. It was too much for John and now he learned that you aren’t dead. I don’t want to talk with you about John in detail. I think, that’s a conversation you two should have; in a calm ambience, just the two of you. He needs time Sherlock, but I know that John misses you very much and I’m sure you will see him in a week or two, maybe three. And I’m sure you will bridge this time as well as you have the last two weeks. Really, Sherlock, please... please don’t search for him and visit him. It’s the worsest thing you could do; don’t push and force him into it, if you do that, you will lose him more than you will get him back. When he’s ready, he will text or call and he will be thankful for your patience. I know you don’t like it, when someone says what you have to do; but Sherlock... just believe me and Mycroft. We didn’t want something bad for you. You can trust us, we’re always there for you, you know that, right? Use it.” Amanda smiled cheerily.

Sherlock eyed her, picked up one of the last tortellini.  
“I’m not used to that sort of things... feelings and that patience-thing. Or that new Mycroft. It’s really hard to handle that all. I thought, I’m coming back and then all is fine and done. Meanwhile, I must say, it was a bit naive.” Sherlock said, and looked at the tortellini on his fork “Are you sure with that Amanda? Can you promise me, that John will come back to me, that he will talk to me again, that he will be my friend again? Can you promise me that?”

Amanda watched Sherlock, who played now with the rest of his pasta. She smiled broadly.  
“Don’t kill my pasta Sherlock.” She smirked and pulled his plate away.  
Sherlock grinned a bit, ate the tortellini on his fork and put the fork away.  
“And it wasn’t just a bit naive, it was extremely naive. But it’s okay. Really, it’s okay. You do that... patience-thing, how you call it, very well. And Mycroft isn’t that new, I think you two should talk as well.” She smiled and bowed her head. “I can promise that he will come back to you, that he will talk to you and that he will be your friend again. Just be patient and wait for him, I promise you, it will be worthwhile; and I tell you what, I keep my promises. You can deduce me, Mr. Holmes, I’m telling the truth.” She winked and pointed smiling with her finger to Sherlock. “Do you fancy some chocolate dessert?”

Sherlock couldn’t help but grinned at her commentary about the deductions. He ran his hand through is hair.  
“Well, thanks, I suppose. Don’t think that I’m able to eat more, maybe later. Thanks Amanda.”  
“Anytime.” She smiled widely. “And the pudding is in the fridge if you have chocolate cravings.”  
Sherlock nodded and smiled.  
“Let’s go to the living room. If you want, I could show you some pictures of John.”  
“Are you allowed to do that?”  
“I show you the pictures of my birthday in May, we had celebrated it here in the garden. So just some pictures of John. And I trust you. Don’t play with that.” She grinned.  
“It’s two months ago... but, a lately Happy Birthday.”  
She stood up and smiled with a nod.

Amanda went with him into the living room; they sat on the sofa with Amanda’s tablet and she opened the order with her birthday pictures of this year.  
Not every picture showed John, a few showed the Holmes parents, a few obviously Amanda’s parents, then some other women and men and kids, obviously some of them were couples with their children, and then there was Mycroft.  
One of the photos showed a slender woman, with long, blonde, light brown hair, dark green eyes and casual good looking clothes. John stood behind her, was hugging her. She smiled widely, so does John, and on top of that, he winked at the camera with his charming smile.  
“Who’s this woman?” Sherlock asked, and in his voice one could hear that he was jealous.  
“It’s Drew. She’s lovely, just like me.” Amanda grinned.  
“Is this John’s... you know... girlfriend?” He asked curious, and tried to hide the jealously tone in his voice.

Amanda looked at the picture. She knew that John was absolutely gay. There had never been a single woman in his life. Actually, he had never tried it and he didn’t want to, because he was just attracted to men. And he had told her, that he couldn’t even imagine being involved in a sexual or romantic way with a woman. But she doesn’t know how much he was in love with Sherlock.

“No. It’s just Drew. She’s one of John’s colleagues at the school and his best friend; female best friend. She’s happily married for a few years now, and has two daughters. They were sick with a flu, that’s why just Drew was there and her husband looked after the kids. You don’t have to worry, he isn’t in a relationship.” Amanda smirked at the end.  
Sherlock felt caught, his cheeks flushed.  
“It’s cute when you’re blushing.”  
“I’m not cute!” Sherlock protested with red cheeks and ears.  
“If you say so, Mr. Holmes.” Amanda smirked and scrolled through the birthday pictures.

 

John looked dashing in all these pictures, the hair was a bit shorter, but as grey and sandy-blond as in the picture from his vacation, in Italy; Mycroft showed him the card yesterday. He had gelled it back to the right side – fluffy and loosely. He wore sunglasses, blue jeans, a checkered button up shirt (blue, red and white), with the sleeves rolled up, and white sneakers. A beard, older than three days across his cheeks, his chin, his upper lip. He was smiling in some of the pictures, and laughing; in some he just sat or stood around, in some he pulled faces or smiled in a very charming way. 

Sherlock’s heart beats faster in his chest and his stomach tingled. That man looked handsome, absolutely handsome and dashing. Sherlock felt how his cheeks flushed again as he looked at the pictures. He really liked what he saw. That man was gorgeous, even with this beard; and he couldn’t decide what he liked more, John with or without a beard, it was too hard to decide, he was just too cute.


	7. A sleepless night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John doesn't want to sleep, he knows, he would have a nightmare, so he keeps himself busy.  
> That whole Sherlock-is-alive-thing was too much and he couldn't control his feelings.

_John’s Place, Potters Bar, Hertfordshire_

Mycroft and John had watched telly until late after midnight.  
Now, Mycroft was lying in the guest room; he was asleep, had told John, that he could wake him up if he needs him, no matter whether he has to work in the morning or not.

John lay in is bed on his back; the arms were crossed under his head, he stared at the ceiling. He didn’t want to sleep. He knew, he would have a nightmare as soon as he falls asleep. So he kept himself awake.

His thoughts wandered to Sherlock, to his best friend Sherlock, who was alive. The last three years he had thought, that Sherlock was...  
He pinched his eyes together. He didn’t like this word.  
John wanted to swallow the tears away, but he wasn’t successful. The tears rolled slowly out of his eyes, down to the pillow.  
After a few minutes he broke into a passion of tears.  
He rolled to the side, grabbed the blue scarf, pressed him to his heart, and curled up like a ball.

John was crying uncontrollably, he was sobbing in silence and sobbing loudly, the body was shaking immensely.  
He pressed the scarf closer, felt the soft fabric and buried his face in it. It didn't smell like Sherlock, he had to wash the scarf three years ago, because of all this blood, but he felt safe with that scarf in his arms and that soft fabric against his cheeks.  
Why? Why have all those people comforted him, although they knew that Sherlock was alive? Why had nobody just said one word to him? Just one word.  
Three years, that’s such a long time. 

He sobbed again - loudly.  
His heart raced fast in his chest, loud against the rib cage. He couldn’t calm down.  
His throat hurt, as well as his face, from all the crying.  
He bit is lower lip and pinched his eyes and buried the face deeper into the soft and warm fabric.  
He took a deep breath, again and again. He needed some air, to fill his lungs again.

The left hand was trembling and he had the feeling that his leg hurts very much. He knew it was psychosomatic, but that didn’t change that it was hurting, or that he had that feeling. He wasn’t able to switch that off.  
He wiped his tears away and sat up; placed the scarf on his pillow, then he stood up slowly and snuffled.  
For the first time in four weeks he took his cane and went downstairs. He needed some time and made the last step from the stairs into the living area. He walked to the big wooden dining table and sat down.  
John looked around, grabbed his tablet and pressed the ‘on’ button.  
As soon as the tablet was ready to be used, he opened the folder with the pictures he had taken, then the folder with the name ‘Sherlock Holmes’.  
There weren’t many pictures, but at least a few. He opened the last picture he had taken of Sherlock.

John sat on the chair, the cane leaned against the dining table; his elbow leaned on the dining table and he cupped his chin in his hand.  
He looked at the picture, with sad eyes, they had lost every brightness. The tears were rolling down his cheeks.  
His forefinger stroked with a little tremble softly over Sherlock's cheek.  
John sighed.  
That man in the picture was alive. John smiled, at least a bit. Sherlock was alive, that means, he could see him again, if he wanted to, right now; or to be precise, in an hour, that was the time one needed from Potters Bar to London - with a car. The only thing he needed to do was calling Amanda and tell her, that he wants to see Sherlock. Then he could see him, maybe punch him, hug him, and other option would be to punch him; he could tell him, how much he had missed him, how much he loved him, and then he could punch him; maybe he wouldn't punch him at all.

He loved this man so much. He hadn’t had a type of man, but as he met Sherlock, he noticed how much he loved deep voices and dark hair. He fancied those incredible eyes, which switched their colour, those cheekbones, the shape of Sherlock's lips. And then this body; tall, slender, pale. Bloody hell, he was just gorgeous.  
The image in his head of Sherlock’s bare chest, the bare back and those little pieces of his bum, he had seen in the Buckingham Palace, made him shiver and goose bumps spread over his body.  
His heart raced and his stomach tingled.  
He fell into a daydream, how it would be with Sherlock at his side, to kiss him goodnight, to kiss him goodbye, to kiss him just because those lips were an invitation - a really hot one; to cuddle with him, would he like that? Probably it would be really great to be kissed by these lips or to feel these fingers on his bare skin, softly and tenderly; to hear his deep voice talking, laughing, moaning.  
Damn it, he was too much into it. His heart had been fallen into love with that mad men, really deep, with no way out. This was the point of no return, not just now. He had reached that point of no return at the first day they met. 

However, Sherlock wasn’t his league. John laughed bitterly. John with his little belly and his nearly grey hair, the wrinkles and his small body.

He had thought that he would never be able to tell Sherlock, how much he loves him. He had blamed himself, that he hadn’t given it a go.  
He had been a coward, hadn’t said anything and then suddenly Sherlock wasn’t with him anymore. He had missed the chance once, he didn’t want to miss it twice.  
John closed his eyes, take a breath and decided to talk with Sherlock about that, as soon as possible.  
When he would be able to visit him, when they had talked about the last three years and Sherlock’s mad idea to jump or not to jump from a high building in front of his best friend.

The thoughts about that day and that he didn’t know how that was even possible, made him angry. He saw him jump, he saw it! How could he have survived? He was there, he knelt in front of Sherlock, with all that blood. That was Sherlock! Or was it just a man with a mask, like in Mission Impossible?  
He felt the anger in his stomach and ruffled his hair.  
His gaze went to the picture again, he closed it with fast and angry taps and shoved the tablet aside.  
It slid over the wooden table, near to the edge.  
“Fuck you Sherlock Holmes.” John said angrily, and took his cane.

He stood up, wiped his tears away. His eyes were red and swollen.  
He went to the kitchen; he knew Mycroft would get up every moment, to take a shower and drive back to London and to his work. John brewed coffee for his friend, heard the shower on the first floor and made him a sandwich.

The coffee brewed, the sandwich was ready to eat and John walked with his cane to the huge mirror in the hallway.  
He looked into it, saw his red an swollen face, the cane in his right hand, how he kneaded his left hand.  
Jesus, he was glad that he didn’t have to go to school today; the students had summer holidays – thank goodness. Summer holidays since two weeks, since the beginning of July, until the beginning of September. That was good, really good, so he would have time to take care of this new situation.

In the corner of his eye, he saw the coat, how it hung on one of the pegs. He turned to the coat and gave it a hard punch with his trembling hand. The coat was soft, but the wall behind was hard. He pulled a face and shook his fist. It hurts. 

Mycroft came downstairs and looked at John.  
“John... ” He bowed his head and came to him.  
John looked up.  
“Morning.”  
“Have you really punched that coat?”  
“Why do you ask, when you have seen it?”  
Mycroft squeezed John’ shoulder.  
“Come on, boy. I think you need some ice for that.” He shoved him into the kitchen. “Sit down John. You haven’t slept, haven’t you? You have cried the whole night, instead of waking me up.”  
John sat down at the little kitchen table while Mycroft got some ice for John.  
“Yeah, you’re totally right.” John murmured tired and exhausted, but also one could hear the anger and the sadness, as well as his total confusion.

Mycroft came to him, put the ice on John’s fist.  
“There is coffee and a sandwich for you, Myc.”  
Mycroft turned his head.  
“Thanks John. Oh great,... it’s the to go version. Thank you John.”  
Mycroft turned his head back to John, stroked his shoulder.  
“Are you sure that I can go to work? If you want me to stay, I will stay.”  
“Its... it’s okay, Myc. You can go,... maybe I will try to sleep or something like that.”  
“Please call me or Amanda if you need something, John. That’s not a plea, it’s an order. Call!” Mycroft said, and stroked across John’s upper arm. “I’m sorry John, I’m terribly sorry. Take your time and when you’re ready for Sherlock, just say it and I’ll send him over or I’ll pick you up. I’ll talk with Sherlock later and I promise you that he’ll wait until you’re ready.”  
John nodded slowly.  
“Thanks again for the coffee and the sandwich. I’m off to work. Call me John, if there is anything you need.”  
“I’ll call you... ”  
Mycroft nodded and patted John’s hair.

After that, Mycroft grabbed the coffee and the sandwich and went to the door.  
“See you old bean.”  
“See you, Myc.”

The door fell into the lock and John’s head sank to the kitchen table.


	8. Mycroft has some news

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft is coming back from work and his fiancee and Sherlock have a few questions.

_Mycroft’s place, London, the same day_

Amanda and Sherlock were waiting for Mycroft, who should bring their ordered Indian takeaway. They sat in the living, more specifically, Amanda sat on the sofa and Sherlock stood at the windows and was watching the street and the driveway.  
If he was honest, he was very nervous; he hadn’t eaten the whole day, because he had thought too much about what Mycroft would have to say. So he had been lying on the sofa, deep down in his thoughts, without one single thought about food. Now his stomach rumbled; in the meanwhile he was too much used to food, as that he could come through the day without it.  
Sherlock saw Mycroft's car and one could also hear it, as he drove over the grit in the driveway.  
“Oh, he’s coming.” Amanda smiled. “It’s about time, I’m starving.”  
Sherlock nodded and came back to the coffee table and the armchair.  
“Let’s eat first, Sherlock; before you pelt him with questions.”

One could hear the door in the basement, and a moment later the creak of some stairs; then Mycroft entered the living room with a few bags in his hands.  
Amanda widened her eyes.  
“Bloody hell, darling! What happened to your face? Are you okay?” Amanda asks, and stood up. “Do you need some ice or anything else.”  
Mycroft put the bags down onto the coffee table. In the region of his nose as well as under his eyes, he had lilac blotches; it was a bit swollen.  
Sherlock eyed him – John.  
“I’m okay, hun.” Mycroft smiled, and gave Amanda a kiss on the temple. He got one back on one of his cheeks and then he turned to Sherlock. “Hey Sherlock.” Mycroft smiled.  
“Hello brother.” Sherlock nodded.

Mycroft smiled and insinuated that Amanda should sit down. She eyed him and then sat down again, Mycroft followed her and unpacked the bags.  
“John happened. It’s all okay, I’m fine. He fixed it and I will look as sexy as always in a few days.” He grinned at the end.  
Sherlock snorted with a laugh and Amanda rolled her eyes with a big grin.  
“John punched you because of your lie.” Sherlock stated.  
Mycroft reached Sherlock and Amanda their ordered food.  
“Yes, John punched me and then he said sorry. It was okay, I don’t blame him.”

Amanda took her fork.  
“Okay, we’re talking while we’re eating.” She said a bit alarmed.  
Mycroft watched his brother and his fiancee; he mixed the rice with the chicken and the sauce.  
“He isn’t in a good state. He couldn’t believe it, he thought I wanted to prank him. He cried and he was very angry and upset... grumpy as always, and he called me names or to be more precise, both of us. I mean Sherlock and me. We’re fucking pricks, he said. However, I didn’t think, that he means that. He was just very upset and confused.”  
“He cried?” Sherlock asked.  
Amanda chewed her rice; she looked empathetic.  
“Yes, and that’s an understatement. He cried his heart out, he sobbed, his body was shaking and his hand was trembling.” Mycroft said and sighed. “Then he punched me and said, that he hates me.”  
Sherlock watched Mycroft, he was starving, but he hadn’t eaten until now, his fork just stuck in one of the chicken pieces.  
Amanda bowed her head.  
“What have you done after that?” Amanda asked.  
“Comforted him. I have hugged him until he calmed down, then he fixed my nose and we ordered takeaway and talked about that situation.”  
“What did he say... about me... and when will we see each other?” Sherlock asked, his voice was sad.  
“It’s too much for him Sherlock... at the moment. It’s just a bit too much. Look Sherlock, he felt guilty for your death and he thought three years, that his best friend committed suicide. I know he misses you a lot, but he needs some time to handle that situation. I promise you, he will be very happy that you’re back.”  
Sherlock didn’t know what to say, he just picked at his food. He has a guilty conscience.

“How was the night?” Amanda asked after a while.  
Mycroft cleared his throat.  
“He didn’t sleep the whole night. Red, swollen eyes and face, big bags under his eyes. I didn’t know what he had done the whole night, but I guess he kept himself busy to not fall asleep – nightmares, you know?... But I saw him this morning... how he punched the coat.”  
“The coat? My coat?” Sherlock asked.  
“Yes, your coat, it hangs in the hallway, he punched it and then his hand was hurting, I gave him some ice.”  
Sherlock sighed, ate some of his chicken and the rice.

Amanda looked at Mycroft, she was very worried about John.  
“Why do you leave him alone?”  
“Amanda... I asked him, he said, it’s okay. You know that this isn’t something to discuss. John is stubborn. If he doesn’t want me to stay, then it’s better to leave. You know you can’t urge him to something. Then he will cloister himself away. I told him, that he should call, if there’s anything he needs. He knows we are there and he will use it, if he wants to.”  
“Are you two sure that I will ever see him again?” Sherlock interrupted.

Mycroft and Amanda turned their heads to him.  
“Brother... Sherlock, you can believe me, you will. You will see him again, I promise.”  
“What makes you sure about that?”  
“I know him, I was at his side the last three years, to comfort him, to be his friend, to make sure he didn’t make anything bad with himself, to make sure that he will never forget you, that if you come back, your John is still there. And John becomes a very good and close friend. I know how much he’s grieving and how much he’s missing you. You’re his best friend Sherlock. And he will come back in the next few weeks, because he will be afraid of never see you again, if you would die for real.”  
Sherlock looked down at his food and swallowed.  
“It’s hard to wait and not to search him. And it’s hard to hear that... that he’s crying... and that it is my fault. I didn’t realize that he cares so much about me.”  
“He cares a lot, that’s what friends do, they care about each other, as well as brothers... or anybody else. If you like some, you care about him, if someone is important to you, you care about him and then you want, that everything is well, that they’re happy and healthy... ”  
Sherlock eyed him, he knows that Mycroft wasn’t just talking about John, he was also talking about their own relationship as brothers.  
“Sherlock, I think, we two should talk, too. I know you have something else in your mind at the moment and that’s okay, but I would like to talk with you about us... as soon as the situation with John and you is cleared. Think about that, I think it would do us good.“  
“Let’s solve at first the John-thing and then we will see.” Sherlock said.  
Mycroft nodded and drank a sip.  
“You didn’t have to wait long, Sherlock. John will think about it and I guess he will talk to you before he has to go back to school. Summer holidays, at the moment until September; seven weeks to go until school starts again, I think he wants to prepare a bit, so he won’t talk to you a week before; six weeks to go, so I guess that he will talk to you in the next five weeks. ‘Cause at the moment he’s just at home, writes his book and has some appointments as an author.”

Sherlock chewed his chicken and rice and swallowed.  
“If you say so, then I think that I haven’t another choice as believing in what you’re saying.”  
“I’m right Sherlock, so you can believe me without any doubt.”  
Sherlock hummed.

“You mentioned another book...” Sherlock said after a moment.  
“It’s a sequel... we didn’t know more about that. We’ve tried to figure it out, but John didn’t say one word. So we all have to wait until it’s published.”  
“And there is just the one book?”  
“Yes, Sherlock, there’s just ‘The Hobbit’. He had written it over a long time, it were just a lot of notes in a book, and after your jump, he sat down and write the notes into chapters and write the book properly... a year and a half. He researched a lot of things and invented a lot of things for that book. If he wasn’t in school, he sat the whole day at his laptop. So I guess, we have to wait a while for his new book. Read the Hobbit again, in the meantime.” Mycroft smiled.  
Sherlock looked at him and bowed his head.  
“I have read it twice... ”  
“Then read a third time, it’s really good, they plan to translate it to a lot of different languages and there’s something else, but John cloak that thing in secrecy.”  
“I know it’s good... maybe I’ll read it again.” Sherlock smiled.

 

In the end, Sherlock took the book after dinner with him to the guest room. Normally, he didn’t like that fantasy stuff, but John’s book was absolutely fantastic and well written. He could read it every day and it wouldn’t get bored.  
He laid the book next to him on the bed, grabbed his mobile phone and opened that Italy-John-picture. Sherlock eyed him, he felt his heart racing, his stomach tingling and his cheeks flushing. That little smile on John’s face, makes him smile, too.  
He missed him like nobody else. Every day he feels the urge to search for him, to visit him, to see him, finally; however, he resisted that urge.  
For John.  
He didn’t want to destroy anything.  
He didn’t want to make the next big mistake.


	9. Two options

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two weeks later, Mycroft has a question for John, and John has two options.  
> The easy way and the difficult way.

_Saturday, two weeks later, John’s place_

It was lunchtime and John was sitting in his garden; wearing only a tee-shirt and a short pants. The sun was shining and he was working on his new book.  
The last two weeks hadn’t been much productive. The most time he was distracted by his thoughts.  
Thoughts about Sherlock and the situation, that he was alive.  
Thoughts about Mycroft and his lie.  
Thoughts about Amanda and Molly and the Holmes parents and their lies.  
All the time, he sat in front of his Laptop and wanted to write, but constantly his thoughts didn’t wander into the world of Middle Earth, they wandered to Sherlock.  
In the last two weeks he had cried as often as he had three years ago; when Sherlock had jumped, when he had seen him on the ground with all that blood.  
His feelings were a mixture of confusion, anger, sadness and happiness.  
He couldn’t decide whether he should burst with joy or burst with anger. 

Today was a good day.  
After his breakfast he had gone out in the garden, since then, he was taking advantage of the great weather. For nearly four hours he had sat outdoors and had wrote on the new chapter.  
However, his mobile phone distracted him with a text noise.  
He leaned back in his garden chair and pulled up his phone.  
It was Mycroft; he opened the message and read it.

 _“Hey John, do you fancy a barbecue later? The weather is great, at least in London. It’s just Amanda, me and Sherlock. I don’t know if you want to come when he’s here, too, but I wanted to ask you, anyway. Think about it, we would be pleased to see you. If you don’t feel comfortable with it, then it’s okay if you stay at home. There’s enough food, so if you decide it spontaneously, it’s enough if you write me, when you’re on your way. If you need someone, who pick you up, text me; then I’ll send someone.”_ \- Mycroft

John bowed his head and read the message twice, his fingers hovered over the keys.  
He answered Mycroft after a while.

 _“Hey Myc, can’t decide this at the moment. I’ll text you later, mate.”_ \- John

 _“Feel free to make your lovely potato salad with the apple pieces, if you come over. By the way, that’s your entrance ticket.”_ \- Mycroft

John grinned after he has read the new text from Mycroft.

 _“I’ll think about it, and if there is time to make the salad, then I’ll make it. :-D. I’ll text you later, Myc. Give me some time.”_ – John

John laid the phone down on the table. He ran his hand through is hair. At the thought, that he maybe would see Sherlock later his heart begun to beat really fast. He closed his eyes, tried to regulate his heartbeat.  
There were two options.  
Seeing Sherlock and maybe dying because of a heart attack.  
Not seeing Sherlock and not dying because of a heart attack.

Option number one, was the brave solution; the solution to make a step out of his comfort zone and finally meeting Sherlock again. He could do something about his love sickness and he wouldn’t need to miss him any longer.  
There was just one reason to not do it and that was his courage.

Option number two, was the cowardly solution; the solution without making a step out of his comfort zone. It was the easy way. He would be able to think about their first meeting again and again and again.  
He knew, there were so many reasons not to choose that option. It wouldn’t get better, if he hides himself any longer; actually, it would get worse. He wouldn’t see Sherlock, he would still miss him.

The easiest way would be to text Mycroft, that he stays at home, but he didn’t want to go the easy way. He wasn’t a coward and he wanted to see Sherlock. He needed to go to that barbecue, a better chance for their second first meeting wouldn’t come. Amanda was there and Mycroft was there and when he couldn’t handle the situation any longer, then he could go home.

John opened his eyes, his heart beats faster and he grabbed his phone.  
He texted Mycroft; he knew himself well enough, he wouldn’t cancel a date if he had agreed before.  
He looked at his text and pressed with his shaking forefinger the ‘send’-button.

 _“I’m coming. You don’t have to send a minion, I’ll take a cab. At what time?”_ \- John

John stood up, saved his document a few times, on his laptop, an external hard drive and a USB flash drive.  
He took the laptop with him and put it down on the wooden dining table; afterwards he went to the kitchen, to fulfill Mycroft’s potato salad wish.

 

The potatoes cooked and John sliced the other things he needed for the salad; onions, pickles, apples.  
As his phone vibrated and buzzed in his pants pocket, he put down the knife and fished his phone out of his pocket.

 _“John, that’s great. I’m glad you come over. Barbecue at 7 pm. Do you like beards?”_ – Mycroft

John wrinkled his forehead.

 _“What?! Why the hell do you ask me that? Btw, you don’t have to shave for me. I fancy your brother, you aren’t my type. I’m sorry.”_ – John

 _“I’m his brother, we have something in common, John. And I’m not talking about me. I’m talking about the guy you fell in love with; he has a beard, a three-day-beard.*smirk*”_ – Mycroft

 _“Don’t send me your facial expressions, Myc! And yeah, you two have something in common – tall. Um, well, I like guys with beards. Stop questioning now! See you later.”_ \- John

 _“Are we blushing Dr. Watson?”_ \- Mycroft

 _“Maybe. Stop it now, you’re distracting me. I’m making your salad. I’ll see you all later.”_ \- John

John’s cheeks and ears were red.  
Jesus, there wasn’t a reason to get blushed. Actually, Mycroft was aware that he searched every now and then a bloke, who looked like Sherlock, his brother, and get fucked by him. Technically, that was more embarrassing as to tell him, that he likes beards.

______________________________________________________  
_Saturday, early afternoon, Mycroft’s place_

Amanda was in the kitchen to prepare the barbecue and Mycroft and Sherlock were in the big garden to set up the charcoal grill and prepare him for the barbecue later.  
Actually, Mycroft was doing it; Sherlock sat in one of the garden chairs and watched him.  
Mycroft put his phone on the table and looked at Sherlock.

“I’ve asked John earlier, if he wants to come over for the barbecue. He’s coming Sherlock.” Mycroft smiled afterwards.  
Sherlock’s eyes widened, his mouth hung open.  
“Seriously? He’ll come later? Does he know that I’m here?”  
Mycroft smiled and sat down.  
“Yes, Sherlock. I’ve told him that you’re here. He’ll come over later.”  
“Maybe he’ll cancel it later.” Sherlock said.  
“No. He texted, that he will come over, he wouldn’t cancel that now. And at the moment he’s making his delicious potato salad, so he has a reason to come over.”  
“He could eat it on his own.” Sherlock remarked.  
Mycroft rolled with his eyes and sighed.  
“Jesus! Brother, can you just trust me! Don’t be so insecure.”  
“I just wanted to say it!”  
“Then shut up Sherlock; if you want to talk so badly, then go to Amanda and tell her that John is coming and that we need more plates, cutlery and glasses.”

Sherlock sighed and stood up. Actually, he was glad to go inside, he needed to shower and change his clothes; maybe a shave.  
His heart was racing, he was nervous, absolutely nervous, and he tried to figure out, what John would say, when they finally meet again.

He went inside, told Amanda what Mycroft had said and disappeared into the guest room.  
He needed to think about his clothes and a good start for a conversation.


	10. A reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John arrives at the barbecue.

_Same day, 6 pm, London, Mycroft’s and Amanda’s place_

John’s cab parked in front of Mycroft’s house; he paid the driver and got out with the potato salad. The left hand was trembling and he pressed it more against the salad bowl. He was really nervous, couldn’t calm down his racing heart; he felt uncomfortable and sick.  
John took a deep breath and swallowed down the lump in his throat.  
He walked across the driveway, wanted to go the door, but he heard Amanda’s laugh.  
John turned his head, they seemed to be in the garden already.  
He walked past the carport into the garden.

Amanda, Mycroft and Sherlock were sitting at the garden table, which was already full of plates, glasses and cutlery; bread, two other salads and some antipasti.  
Amanda looked up to John and smiled widely.  
“John.” She said with a euphoric voice and stood up.  
John smiled and came to the table; he put down the bowl and in the corner of his eyes, he saw Sherlock.  
Amanda pulled him into a hearty hug. John’s heart was racing even more, since he had seen a bit of Sherlock.  
He hugged Amanda back and gave her two kisses on the cheeks; and Amanda gave him two kisses back.  
Mycroft stood up as well.  
John turned to him and smiled.  
They hugged each other; John squeezed Mycroft’s shoulder and Mycroft patted John’s back.

As they broke apart, John’s gaze wandered to Sherlock.  
He was sitting in the chair next to Mycroft and was watching him.  
There was a little insecure smile on his face. Not one word left his mouth.  
John eyed him and his heart raced even more. Actually, it was racing like mad. Not just because it was the first time after three years, that they see each other, but also because of Sherlock's physical appearance.

To start from the top; his hair was much shorter at the sides, one could see the ears, but the top hair was a bit longer, slightly curly; and the hair was a bit brighter, too. Then there was the beard, that three-day-beard, Mycroft texted him earlier. He was wearing a black polo shirt, the first button was open; one could see the slightly ripped arms and upper body. And then there was this dark blue jeans.  
John’s heart skipped a beat; to say it in easy words; that man looked just amazing, handsome and absolutely sexy.  
John had thought that Sherlock’s appearance three years ago was perfect, but it seemed that Sherlock was able to look more than just perfect. Although, John had loved the look of Sherlock three years ago – that today was much better and hotter.

Sherlock had eyed John at the same time.  
The grey, sandy-blonde hair was loosely slicked to the right side, with a lightly wave. He had a little stubble, probably he had shaved yesterday. He was wearing a light blue button up shirt and a navy blue trouser. The first button of the shirt was open, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and it didn’t stick in the trouser. On top, he was wearing sunglasses.  
Sherlock stomach tingled even more, as well as his heart raced even more.

John swallowed, he didn’t know what to say and raised just his right hand, with a little smile.  
Sherlock returned the smile and nodded.  
Amanda and Mycroft had already sat down again, and John walked to the free chair and sat down next to Amanda; diagonally across from him sat Sherlock.

Mycroft was the first who spoke again.  
“John, great to have you here.”  
John turned his head away from Sherlock.  
“Um, yeah... thanks for the barbecue invitation.”  
“My pleasure. And I see you have brought your potato salad.”  
John smiled and nodded; he kneaded his left hand. He was nervous as hell because of Sherlock, and since he got in the cab his hand was trembling like mad. At first he had thought he would need his cane; and actually his leg was hurting, not as much as on other days, but it hurts. However he had decided to leave the damn cane at home.  
“Well, Myc... you said it would be my entrance ticket. I didn’t want to eat my barbecue on the street. That’s why I make you your salad, just for you, love.” John smirked a bit.  
“So, I didn’t have to share it?” Mycroft grinned.  
“Of course you have, you egoistic prick. Just look around, here are three more people who are hungry.” John grinned slightly.  
“It’s a shame.” Mycroft grinned

Amanda smirked widely and pulled the bowl with the salad away from Mycroft. Sherlock just watched the others, he saw John’s trembling hand, and how he kneaded it constantly or pressed his right hand on it. Mycroft had told him that it trembled because of himself, when John was thinking too much about him. John was nervous and felt uncomfortable, whether he grinned or not.

“I hope we haven’t bothered you, John.” Amanda said with a smile.  
“Oh no, it’s fine. I was just sitting in the garden and worked a bit on the new book. And I haven’t had plans for tonight.”  
“That’s good, then we have rescued you from your boredom tonight.” She smirked.  
“As if I get bored. I would have found something to do. Writing or watching crap telly or going out for a drink; alone or with someone.”  
“It’s much better with me.” Amanda grinned.  
John smiled charmingly.  
“Of course, my dear. I’m just here for you.”

Mycroft laughed and shook his head.  
“What are you laughing at?” John grinned.  
“I’m laughing about you.” Mycroft laughed.  
“What?! It’s the truth; I’m here to bring you that salad, it was your wish; and then I’m here because of your lovely fiancee and because of the free food.” John smirked.  
He turned his head to Sherlock, bowed his head, and while Mycroft and Amanda were laughing, John said,  
“And because I wanted to see... the person, who... who’s blocking the guest room for four weeks now.”  
John smiled a bit, Sherlock just smiled, but didn’t say a word.

John had thought, that he would get very angry when he sees Sherlock, but the opposite was the truth. It took him weight off his mind. He was just happy to see him, to see him alive and healthy, to see him smile, at least a bit; and to see this handsome man again.  
It was just too unfamiliar to see him, that he didn’t know what to say or what to do.  
He was sure, he would find a way, to have a proper conversation with Sherlock tonight; but at the moment he was just glad, to sit in his chair and have some small talk with Amanda and Mycroft. He needed to get used to the new situation.

Sherlock was satisfied with the situation at the moment. At least, John hadn’t punched him, he has smiled a bit, maybe this was a good sign. He didn’t seem to be angry or upset with him, at least not at the moment. He was sure, the anger and sadness would come back, when they would talk properly one day.  
But for now, it was great to see him smile.


	11. I follow you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock makes the first step.

_Same day, later that evening, London, Mycroft’s place_

They had finished the barbecue, had eaten almost all of the bread and the salads. Sherlock had been very quiet, he had talked with Mycroft and Amanda, but John and he hadn’t spoken very much. They had bandied looks, had looked each other into the eyes or had just watched the other, they had exchanged some little smiles, and a few irrelevant words.  
It was almost 11 pm when John stood up; at the moment they drank some coffee and eat a piece of cake – their dessert.  
“Myc, can you give me the key?” John asked.  
Mycroft looked up and smiled.  
“I don’t have to. I had left the key in the lock. Do you need something?”  
“Yeah... the bathroom.” John grinned. “So I can go on my own.”  
Mycroft smirked and nodded.

John walked through the garden, past the carport and to the front door; he took the steps and unlocked the door. He went upstairs to the living area of the house and walked through the hallway into the bathroom.

Sherlock turned his head, he didn’t know if this was right, but maybe they were able to talk a bit more if Mycroft and Amanda weren’t next to them. He stood up and got ready for an argument, but Mycroft and Amanda didn’t say a word. Amanda just smiled at him and so did Mycroft.  
He went to the bathroom and waited in the hallway, watched the picture of Amanda and Mycroft, which was hanging there.

One could hear the lavatory flush and the rush of the water in the basin, and then the door opened.  
Sherlock turned his head and John startled.  
“Jesus! You’ve scared me.” John said.  
He laid the hand on his chest and took a deep breath.  
“I’m sorry John... I didn’t mean to. Um... well, sorry that I followed you.”  
Sherlock wanted to turn around, but a second later he felt John’s hand on his wrist.  
“Wait Sherlock.” John said in a low voice.

Sherlock turned again to John and looked at him.  
“Punch me. That’s what you want to do.”  
“No, not today... I will punch and scream at you on another day, maybe tomorrow. Today I would love to do something else.” John’s voice was soft and his gaze as well.  
Sherlock looked irritated and a moment later he was hugged by John Watson.

The doctor wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s neck and pulled him closer. The hug was firm, as if his life depends on it. He didn’t say a word; he just closed his eyes and hugged him with all he has.  
Sherlock swallowed; he was surprised, hasn’t reckoned with that. For a while he was stiff in John’s hug, until he got used to it and wrapped his arms around John’s back.  
John didn’t break apart, the only thing he did, was to pull Sherlock even closer. He snuggled closer; it felt really good to hug Sherlock; that tall and slender man, and it felt even better to get hugged by him.  
That felt much better as he had imagined a hug with Sherlock, John thought. He could do this all day. 

His heart was racing and he felt that Sherlock’s heart was racing too. That was good, it was so good to feel Sherlock’s heartbeat; the sign, that he was alive.  
“You are alive.” John murmured.  
“I am.”  
They loosened their hug and John looked up to him, laid his hand on Sherlock’s chest, right above his heart.  
Oh, that feels good, John thought; not just the heartbeat, but also that ripped chest.  
“You really are alive.”  
“I am.” Sherlock said, his eyes looked into John’s.

John swallowed.  
“It... it was good that you followed me. I didn’t know what to say or to do the whole evening.”  
“You felt uncomfortable and sick, but you were ready for this. Rather do it that way, then hide any longer and make it more difficult to manage. But you would have liked to do it the easy way and stay at home.”  
“That’s absolutely true. You’re right... as always.” John nodded and smiled a bit.  
There was silence and John’s hand still rested on Sherlock’s chest to feel his heartbeat.

After a few minutes of total silence and just looking into each others eyes, Sherlock broke the silence again.  
“I liked your potato salad.”  
John laughed and looked at a confused looking Sherlock.  
“That’s not the conversation we should do now, Sherlock. You know, you just told me that you’re alive and that you have lied to me for three long years. It’s not suitable at the moment. However, thank you. And to look at it as a doctor, I can say you have a healthy appetite.”  
Sherlock bit his lower lip.  
“Sorry John.”

John shook his head.  
“It’s okay... actually, it isn’t a great topic at all, isn’t it? Three years have passed, it’s a long time. And I’m confused... my feelings are confused. On the one hand, I’m glad and happy that you’re alive and on the other hand, I’m really mad, angry and upset with you, and grievously disappointed. At the moment the happiness overweight. But I can’t guarantee anything.”  
“It’s... John... it’s my fault. I’m sorry... I... Mycroft was right. I have miscalculated it, in context to you. I was naive, I thought it would be alright. I thought you would go on with your life after a few weeks, that you stay at Baker Street and that everything is like before when I’m back. I’m not good with this friend-thing. I don’t know what it means to have a friend; I mean you’re my friend, I hope you still are, but I just didn’t know how to act in a friendship, what to do and what to say; or not to do and not to say.” Sherlock confessed.

John bowed his head, his hand still lay on Sherlock’s chest; just to make sure that his heart beats, of course. And maybe because his hand liked the feeling of Sherlock’s chest. Maybe, that was the only reason that his hand still lay on Sherlock’s chest. To be honest, it was the only reason.

John took a deep breath, looked around and thought about the idea in his head.  
After a few moments he cleared his throat.  
“I think, that this isn’t the right time and the right place to talk about that, to talk about the three years and what happened right before, Sherlock. I would say we need more than a few minutes to discuss and clear that. I’m not really sure about that, and if I’m really comfortable with it, but we need to talk urgently, so I ask you anyway. I... um, well, Sherlock, if you want, you could come with me, when I’m driving home later. And we could talk tomorrow... and if you want, you could stay... for a while. I think we need more than a day for that. It’s just an offer. You could pack some things or you just stay tomorrow or you stay here.”  
John took a deep breath and scratched his neck with his slightly trembling hand.

Sherlock watched him, he was as insecure as John. However, that thing what John did with his hand; feeling his heartbeat, could the doctor do all day. It was quite nice. He thought about John’s offer, a bit longer than it was necessary. He knew the conversation was over, after his answer and he didn’t want, that John took off his hand.  
“I take the offer to stay a few days. I know, that it won’t be easy, but I guess we have a lot of things to talk about. I want to explain it and clarify that, and I want to explain a few other things. I guess it’s time to talk.”  
John’s heart beat faster in his chest, he nodded.  
“Okay. I’m a bit tired, so I guess in the next half an hour I’ll call a cab. I’m not living in London anymore. So we have to drive an hour.”  
“That’s okay with me.”  
“Good.” John nodded.

Sherlock stood in front of John, he didn’t know what to do next. Just go downstairs and in the garden? Or ask something? Or do something?  
John took the lead and bowed his head with a small smile.  
“Come here you fucking bastard.” John said, and after that he hugged Sherlock again.  
As desperately as the first time.


	12. Sleep well

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John drive to John's house with the ordered cab.  
> At home, Sherlock can't sleep, because of a question in his mind.  
> And after his question, John is the one who can't fall asleep.

_John’s place, Potters Bar, Hertfordshire_

Half an hour later, John and Sherlock had said goodbye to Mycroft and Amanda.  
A taxi had driven them to Potters Bar, and now the cabbie parked right in front of John’s house.  
The ride to Potters Bar had been quiet, especially because of John, who had been falling asleep on the ride home.  
Sherlock squeezed gently John’s shoulder.  
“John?”  
John felt Sherlock’s hand on his shoulder and heard his deep voice; he opened the eyes and looked around with a confused, sleepy expression.  
“Oh... we’re already at home.” John blinked a few times and rubbed over his eyes. “Sorry... “  
“No problem Sir. £57,21.” The cabbie said with a smile.  
John nodded and pulled out his wallet; he took out some money and gave it to the taxi driver.  
“Keep the change.” John smiled and opened his door. “Good night.”  
“Good night, gentlemen.”  
John got out of the taxi and Sherlock followed him with his bag.

John ran his fingers through his hair and yawned.  
“I’m sorry, I was a bit too tired.”  
“It’s okay John.” Sherlock nodded.  
John looked at him and turned around to the front door. He took the few steps and pulled out his key. He unlocked the door and pushed it open. Sherlock followed him inside the house and closed the door behind him.

John laid the keys and his wallet down on the dresser in the hallway and slipped out of his shoes. He scratched his neck and looked at Sherlock, who also slipped out of his shoes, the bag still in his hand.  
“Um, okay... I can show you where you can sleep.”  
Sherlock nodded and his eyes got caught by the coat and the blue scarf on one of the pegs in the hallway.  
John followed Sherlock’s sight and bowed his head.  
“It’s yours. Um... it’s obvious, right? I mean, you can have it back, the coat and the scarf. Greg and your brother saved them and gave them to me.”  
Sherlock turned his head to John.  
“And you hung both things on these pegs, right in the hallway?”  
“Um, yeah... to see a bit of you, maybe; so that you’re still here... and, well, sometimes I wear your scarf. The coat is too big for me.”  
Sherlocks smiled a bit and nodded.  
“Then, keep the scarf, it’s yours.” He saw John’s little, soft smile. ”I can buy a new one.”  
“Thanks Sherlock...” John took a deep breath. “Okay, let’s go upstairs.”

John went through the little hallway, right into the living area and to the staircase; he went upstairs, Sherlock followed him.  
The doctor opened a door to his right.  
It was a small room, with a three quarter bed, a dresser, an old wing chair with a little round table, a bookshelf and a big window; to the garden side.  
“You can sleep here, the bathroom is across and I’m in the room next to you.”  
“Okay, thank you... it’s a nice place.”  
John nodded and scratched his head again.  
“I’m tired Sherlock, I’m in the bathroom and then I go to sleep. Make yourself at home. You know, if you’re hungry or thirsty, then help yourself. We talk later. Um, good night and sleep well.”  
“Okay... then good night to you too.”  
John nodded, squeezed Sherlock’s shoulder and disappeared into the bathroom.

Sherlock watched after him, then entered the guest room and closed the door. He laid the bag onto the wing chair and sat down onto the bed. He could hear the shower for 7 minutes and 41 seconds, almost 42. Then he heard nothing, after that the lavatory flush, the water in the basin, nothing, the water in the basin again.  
Showering, toilet, washing hands, brushing teeth. John was ready for bed.  
The door opened, there were footsteps on the floor and then the door of John’s bedroom got closed.  
Sherlock rubbed his temples, it had been a nerve-racking day; he was exhausted, physically and mentally. However, there was one question in his mind, he couldn’t switch off.

John was lying in his four-poster-bed, just in his black boxer briefs. He was thinking about the day and about Sherlock.  
In the last few days, he had been really angry and upset; he had been grumpy as hell with his best friend, and had sworn a lot. And now he wasn’t able to get angry or mad with him. It was just too good to see him; alive and healthy. Of course he was angry, but the happiness that he was back was too big. The only thing that was present in his mind, his heart, his stomach, except the happiness, was sadness; sadness about the three years he had lost without Sherlock at his side, as his best friend. It was a shame, three years without him; he didn’t want to think about the things that maybe would have happened, if they had spent the last three years together.  
Maybe Sherlock would still be his best friend and colleague, maybe he would have told Sherlock that he was gay and in love with him, and maybe he would have found another man, or just maybe, Sherlock would lie next to him, in his arms.

John sighed – sometimes love was a fucking shit.  
Probably his love for Sherlock was the reason that he forgave him that big fake and the last three years. He was just too much in love with Sherlock, he would forgive him everything as long as he would be and stay at his side, no matter in which position – colleague, friend, best friend, boyfriend. As long as Sherlock was and stayed at his side, everything was well.  
He needed to talk with Sherlock; he needed to tell him, that he was gay and the reasons he hadn’t said it, the really bad experiences and the reason that he was in love with him. He needed to do that, to explain himself, to get it out of his mind, to go on with his love life on a non-Sherlock-road and to get to know if he maybe have some chances.

The knock at his door interrupted his thoughts abruptly. He blinked a few times, took a deep breath and cleared his throat.  
“Yeah?”  
“Can I come in?” Sherlock asked.  
“Um... yeah, yeah, you can come in.”  
The door opened and John turned on the bedside-lamp. He watched Sherlock, who came nearer and slowly sit down on his bed.

John eyed him and swallowed.  
Sherlock was just wearing boxer briefs, black and tight boxer briefs.  
He needed to calm down his heartbeat and he should think about how to breath and how not to get tomato-red cheeks, and probably it would be good to remember how not to get aroused and an erection, just because of a hot looking guy, with a bare and slightly muscly chest; and not to forget this pale skin and the light and bright chest hair, those eyes, that hair... and bloody hell that crotch.  
Oh sweet Jesus, how good would it be to have that man fully naked in his bed.

“What’s... what’s up Sherlock?” John murmured and cleared his throat.  
“I’m sorry John, I didn’t want to disturb you. I just have one question on my mind and it didn’t let me sleep.”  
“Um, yeah, then ask. What’s on your mind?” John murmured and tried to look just into Sherlock's eyes.  
“Are you still my friend?” Sherlock asked insecurely.  
That look on Sherlock’s face, his voice and the tone of his voice, just let his penis twitch with pleasure. That wasn’t good, the summer blanket wasn’t thick like the blanket he used in winter.  
“I am, Sherlock. I’m still your friend, otherwise I hadn’t taken you home with me. Can we talk in the morning Sherlock. I’m tired and I just need some rest... my body and my mind. I am your friend, Sherlock,... in the morning I will prove you that you can trust me with that; then we can talk about friendships and what they are meaning.”  
Sherlock looked relieved at John. He stood up slowly and nodded.  
“Okay, thanks John. I’ll let you sleep now. Sleep well.” Sherlock smiled a bit.  
“You too Sherlock.” John said.  
Sherlock turned around and walked to the door, and John’s eyes wandered across Sherlock’s back and that nice bum in those tight boxer briefs.  
Sherlock closed the door behind himself and John felt his cock twitch again.

John waited a few moments, until he heard the door to the guest room; then he slipped out of his boxer briefs; he was aroused and needed a wank, urgently.  
His hand opened the bedside drawer and pulled out the lube. He rolled on his back, bent his legs and spread them, and opened the bottle. He pressed some of the lube in his left hand.  
His hand slid down and cupped his erections. He bit his lower lip, he needed to be silent, he couldn’t moan as loudly as usual. 

John closed his eyes, pressed his head into the pillow and imagined Sherlock; Sherlock, who kneels between his spread and bent legs, who cups his twitching erection with his long, soft and slender fingers, who slides down with his hand – with pressure, who slides up with his hand – with pressure and a twist, who rubs his thumb over the tip.  
He bit his lower lip again to suppress a moan.  
In his mind, Sherlock rubbed over his balls, played with them. And John couldn’t help, but thrust into Sherlock’s fist.  
He pressed his lips together, clawed his right hand into the bed sheet.  
Usually he screamed Sherlock’s name, but that wasn’t an option, with Sherlock in the room next to him.  
He let out some air, turned his head to the side, and let out a soft, low whisper into the pillow.  
“Sherlock!”

He needed to calm down a bit. He stopped his thrusts and pulled his hand away. His cock was twitching in disgust.  
John opened the bottle with lube again, pressed it into his right hand.  
The left hand wandered to his throbbing erection, cupped it firmly. The right hand slid down to his crotch, down to his balls and between his buttocks.  
Oh, how good would it feel, if Sherlock would do that, fingering him, with his long, slender and soft fingers.  
John fingered himself, imagined it would be Sherlock, who would cosset him with one finger, soft and slow, who would scissoring him with two long fingers, soft and slow.  
John turned his head again, whispered Sherlock’s name into the pillow and pressed his face into it.  
He turned up the speed with his two hands, the left one found a nice, fast pace on his twitching cock and the two fingers of the right hand fucked him into his hole with the same pace.  
He moaned suppressed in the pillow; Sherlock’s name, like a mantra.  
“SherlockSherlockFuckSherlock.”

He felt his orgasm rolling through his body; he pressed the face more into the pillow, whined a low ‘Sherlock’ into it and came all over his hand, belly and chest.  
He fucked himself through his orgasm, arched his back, rolled his head across the pillow, tilted his head back and opened his mouth in a silent long moan.  
His legs were trembling enormously, he sweated and took a few deep breathes.  
His legs slid down to the bed sheet.  
At least, it was a bit of a release.  
Much better was it to get fucked or to receive a handjob or blowjob, from someone who looked like Sherlock.  
And the best and perfect thing would be, to get fucked by Sherlock Holmes – soft and tenderly, hard and rough, slow, fast, making love or just have a quick fuck.

He wiped his sweat away and reached for his boxer briefs; cleaned himself and threw the pants away.  
He rolled up to the side and closed his eyes.

 

Sherlock next doors, was asleep; that he still was John’s friend had calmed him down.  
Oh, and John had looked incredibly handsome, with his bare chest, the scar from war and that slightly, bright chest hair – a bit grey and sandy-blonde.  
However, he didn’t know if he should go too much into it. Once in his university years he fell victim to a really, really bad prank and since then, he didn’t trust love, he didn’t want to trust love. Love was hurting, love was a fool, love was just a prank.  
It couldn’t exist for him, not for somebody like him.


	13. True friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the first morning.  
> Sherlock and John have a conversation about the past and the meaning of friendship.

_The next day, Monday, John’s place_

In the morning John was sitting at the wooden dining table in the living area. A cup of tea stood next to him, and in front of him stood his laptop; he was typing.  
He turned his head to the staircase, when he heard the slight creaking noise.  
Sherlock stood there, with a grey sweatpants and a white tee shirt; his hair was damp, he had been showering; John had heard the shower a few minutes ago. John himself, was wearing black, short pants and a dark blue polo shirt.  
He bowed his head and stopped typing.  
“Morning Sherlock.”  
“Morning John... ”  
“You’ve slept, that’s good.”  
“Said the doctor?” Sherlock said, and came to the wooden table.  
“Yeah, said the doctor.” John smiled.  
Sherlock looked down to him and smiled too.

John’s smile stayed, he saved his document a few times and closed his laptop.  
“How long are you awake?” Sherlock asked.  
“You can sit down Sherlock, you don’t have to stand there. Um, I don’t know... “ John said and looked at the watch on his wrist. “An hour and a half, roughly.”  
Sherlock took a seat, across from John; he nodded.  
John eyed him and pointed at his tea cup.  
“Do you fancy a cup of tea and breakfast? I haven’t eaten until now, I wanted to wait for you.”  
“Um, that’s nice. Yes, a cup of tea would be great, also some kind of breakfast.”  
John stood up and smiled.  
“What kind? Sandwiches, fruits, cereals, yogurt?”  
“Cereals... “ Sherlock said and ran his hand through his damp hair.  
John nodded, took his cup and went into the kitchen.

He was making new tea, his food, Sherlock’s food. He was a bit nervous, because of the coming conversation with Sherlock. His best friend was rattled, and it was strange to see that. Normally he was absolutely confident, or at least, he pretended to be confident. Sherlock had said, that he wanted to talk about some other stuff too, that he would like to explain himself. John was curious what that would be. Since they know each other, he had the feeling that there was much more about Sherlock as that what he pretended to be.  
John put the food to the service hatch.  
“Hey Sherlock... can you pick up the food? I’m with you in a tick, just waiting for the tea.”  
Sherlock looked into the service hatch, to the food and in John’s soft face. He stood up, walked along the table and took John’s plate with the jam toasts and his bowl with cereals and milk.  
John smiled.  
“Thank you.”  
“Thank you as well, for the breakfast.” Sherlock smiled slightly.  
John nodded and turned away to the tea.

 

As John came back into the living area, the two men ate their breakfast, John his toasts with jam, and Sherlock the cereals. They drank their tea calmly and had a little conversation about the first night; if everybody had slept well. After that, they brought the dishes into the kitchen, and went to the big, cozy sofa. John and Sherlock sat down, sideways; John’s arm lay on the back of the sofa; Sherlock’s arms in front of his body.

John bowed his head a bit and looked Sherlock into the eyes.  
“A few hours ago, you asked me, whether I am still your friend or not and I told you, that we will talk about friendship in the morning; but I would like to talk at first about that thing that happened three years ago. Then we can talk about friendships. And one more thing. Please be honest... both of us...” John said gently.  
“Okay... I agree with that, and I will try to be honest.” Sherlock nodded.  
“Good.” John scratched his back of the head, ran his fingers through his grey hair. “Why... Sherlock? Why? Why was it necessary to fake your... your death? I didn’t want to know, how you did that, exactly. I just want to know, why.” John murmured.

Sherlock looked him into the eyes.  
“I just didn’t see another solution. Moriarty was a gambler, he wanted to play games; mind games, deathly mind games. I mean, you know what he wanted to do at the pool, what he had done with all the people before that pool meeting. He wanted to show that he’s cleverer than me.”  
“And you couldn’t resist? You needed to show him, that you’re the cleverest person in the world? You had to show off, that you are the genius?” John interrupted Sherlock. His voice was a bit louder and angrier.  
“No John. I wasn’t finished with my explanation. Just listen. You’re right... in a way. I couldn’t resist a game, you know me... I like mind games and yes... I like to show off, that I’m clever, but that wasn’t the whole story. It went too far... in an area I couldn’t control, like I wanted to control it. It went a bit out of hands, but with that, I had the possibility to destroy his whole villain network. We had talked with each other... ” 

John interrupted him again.  
“Why are you talking to such a psychopath, instead of just killing him?” John said furious.  
“And then? There were more people in his network than just him.”  
“Kill them, too.”  
“You can’t kill them all.”  
“Why not? They aren’t nice people, aren’t they?”  
“Then you have to kill me too.”  
“Oh, come on Sherlock, you’re a nice guy. You’re helping the police and other people with their cases.” John stated.  
“I’m doing that for my own fun.”  
“It doesn’t matter! You help them.”  
Sherlock raised his eyebrow and bowed his head.  
“I’m sorry Sherlock... go on.” John added.

Sherlock took a deep breath and nodded.  
“Good. What I wanted to say was, I was faced with a decision. Either I kill myself or he will kill Mrs. Hudson, Greg and you. I choose to kill myself, obviously. We met on the rooftop and he told me, if I wouldn’t jump, you all would die, immediately. A sniper pointed a rifle at you, John. I hadn’t a choice. It was well planned. In the last three years, I was chasing Moriarty's network through the whole world. And I’m back because his network doesn’t exist any longer.”  
John ran his hand through his hair, rubbed his eyes and his temples. His head was buzzing; he swallowed and cleared his throat.  
“So... you, you saved my life, instead of yours? And chasing mad people around the world to be sure that none of us will die?”  
“Yes, that’s right.” Sherlock nodded.

John turned his head away and looked through his living area. He sighed and turned his head to Sherlock again.  
“But... why, for fuck’s sake, haven’t you said a word? One word Sherlock, that you’re alive, that you’re on a creepy mission, that we can’t talk, text, call and see each other at that time.”  
“I didn’t want to risk your life. I was afraid, that if you get kidnapped or something else, that they would find out the whole trick and kill you. I didn’t want to risk that. I wanted that you’re safe. I... I thought, that it would be the best... I thought you would grief a bit and then go on with your life, just without me; and that if I’m coming back, you would give me a big welcome, and all is well.”

John snorted and raised his eyebrow.  
“And you told me, that this was a BIT miscalculated and a BIT naive. That’s an understatement, Sherlock! Bloody hell... Jesus, did you even know what you mean to me? For fuck’s sake Sherlock, you have saved my life! And I’m not speaking about that Moriarty-game. You saved my life, when we first met. I was back home from Afghanistan, couldn’t work as the doctor I wanted to be, because of my shoulder, my limp, my trembling hand. I needed to go to a psychiatrist... and was diagnosed with PTSD. There wasn’t a friend, and like you deduced a few years ago, I haven’t a great chemistry with my family. I was alone, had lost two of my jobs at once. The only reason I had that gun was to kill myself, if I couldn’t bear all that any longer. And then I met you, and you’ve healed my trembling hand, my limp, almost my nightmares... I had found a true friend in you, Sherlock.” John said with an angry voice, but his voice becomes lower, softer, sadder.

Sherlock swallowed, wanted to say something, but John raised his hand and cleared his throat.  
“Then I saw you... on the rooftop and you called me to say goodbye. I was shocked; tried to talk to you, tried to hold you back, but you jumped. You jumped, and I thought, that I was a really bad best friend, who isn’t able to see, that his best friend have such big problems, that he decided to jump from a rooftop; that I’m a bad best friend, who isn’t able to hold his best friend back from suicide.” 

John swallowed and looked down to his thighs.  
“Sherlock... I was crying because of you so often; because I had lost my best friend. The limp was back, the trembling hand was back, nightmares about you. I slept in your bed, I searched for you in the flat, made tea for you, called after you... I needed to leave Baker Street, I quit my job. Every week I was at the grave, talked to you... and you say, it was a just a BIT naive and miscalculated?”  
He swallowed down the lump in his throat, a single tear rolled over his cheek.

Sherlock looked down at him.  
“I’m sorry John... I’m really sorry for that. I... I missed you too. And you’re important to me too, that’s why I didn’t want to risk anything. I’m glad that we met John... and you aren’t a bad friend... I’m the bad friend. It was all about me the whole time; I was too busy with myself, instead of being a good friend. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you that much. I would say sorry the whole day, three years... but I think, that isn’t what you want, or what makes it better.” Sherlock said ruefully.

John wiped the tears away and looked up to Sherlock again. He bit his lower lip, watched Sherlock, whose eyes were sad, rueful and insecure.  
John kneaded his left hand, looked Sherlock into the eyes.  
“Do you need a hug? May I hug you?... What... can or what shall I do, John?" Sherlock asked insecurely.  
“I... I think I could need a hug from you, Sherlock.” John mumbled.

Sherlock slipped a bit to John and pulled him into a soft hug.  
John laid his arms slowly around Sherlock’s body, laid his cheek against its shoulder and closed his eyes.  
“Talk about something else... I’m exhausted... we talk in more detail later.” John murmured hardly audibly.  
Sherlock nodded, hugged him gently; he didn’t say a word for several minutes.

John was still in Sherlock’s arm. His cheek was still lying on Sherlock’s shoulder; he could smell him, and he smelled really good.  
Sherlock broke the silent with his deep, curious voice.  
“Why are you still my friend, after all I’ve done? I don’t understand that.”

John broke slowly apart, loosened Sherlock’s hug. He looked at him and cleared his throat.  
“I can’t forget that Sherlock, but I can forgive you, because you’re a true friend, my best friend... my soulmate. For best friends it doesn’t matter how often they see each other; it doesn’t matter if they didn’t see each other for a long time, or if they didn’t talk to each other for a long time. They know the other one is always there. They know, that they won’t break apart, no matter how far away they are from each other, no matter how long they haven’t seen each other, no matter what one of them had done. True friends and best friends stay friends, no matter what happens.”  
“I wasn’t there... ”

John smiled.  
“You were... ” He pointed to the hallway. “Your scarf... your coat.” He pointed to the wall behind them, which was plastered with many photographs; different people, different situation – parties, trips, vacations,... - Molly, Greg, Mrs. Hudson, John, Mycroft, Amanda, Drew, the other teachers from school, Sherlock,... “Pictures of you.” He pointed to some other people in those photos. “Stories about you, from Molly, Greg, Mrs. Hudson.” He pointed at Mycroft and the Holmes parents. “Your family.” He pointed to his laptop. “In my blog.” He tipped against Sherlocks head. “In my head, in my dreams, in my... little mind palace.” He winked and tipped against Sherlock's chest. “In my big heart.” He smiled gently. “You were always there; in one way, you were never really gone. And because you’re a true friend, my best friend and my soulmate, I can forgive you.”

Sherlock had followed John’s forefinger the whole time, had listened carefully; he swallowed, had a big lump in his throat.  
“I didn’t know that this is the meaning of true friendship.” Sherlock murmured, and looked from John’s forefinger on his chest to John’s eyes.  
John smiled; actually he smirked a bit sassy with a whiff of charm.  
“I know... like you didn’t know anything about the solar system, Mr. Holmes.”

Sherlock pursed his lips and rolled his eyes; but then his right corner of his lips pulled upwards into a grin.


	14. A stroll and some takeaway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John spend the first day after their reunion together.  
> In the evening they go out for a little stroll.

_Monday evening, John’s place_

Sherlock sat on the sofa and the only thing he was thinking about the whole day was that John had forgiven him. After all he had heard from Mycroft and Amanda, and finally from John, he hadn’t reckoned that.  
In his head, he had already lost John. He hadn’t believed Mycroft and Amanda, who have told him, that John would still be his friend. He hadn’t trusted them. However, John had told him in the morning, that he forgives him almost everything as long as they are true and best friends, as long as he’s with John, in one way or another.  
Maybe tomorrow he would tell John about his past; tell him, why it was so hard for him to trust someone else, why he didn’t know something about friendship – the real reason.  
But not today; today it was just enough. Enough, that they had cleared their friendship, at least a bit. John was right, it was better to do it step by step than talk about every detail of their lives and what had happened, on one day.

John came out of the guest toilet, which was in the basement, and looked to Sherlock.  
“Sherlock?”  
Sherlock turned his head around, he had looked out of the ceiling-high window - into the garden.  
“John?”  
Sherlock eyed him; John was smiling, standing in the hallway, with that dark blue polo shirt and the black short trousers.  
“Do you fancy a stroll... I didn’t want to bore you to death. And we could buy some takeaway on the way back home. There is an Italian place ‘round the corner.”  
Sherlock bowed his head and stood up, he had changed into a pair of jeans earlier and walked over to John.  
“I’m not bored John. However, I would fancy a stroll with you, and also that Italian takeaway.  
“That’s great, all of that.” John smiled.

Sherlock returned his smile and slipped into his shoes. John bent down and took his trainers, slipped in, and grabbed the wallet and the key from the dresser.  
“Okay, I’m ready.” John smiled to Sherlock; who was waiting with that white tee shirt, which suits him and his slightly muscly chest very well, and those dark blue trousers looked really nice on him too; especially with his bum.  
Sherlock smiled at him and nodded, and John opened the front door and stepped out. Sherlock followed.

It was a nice, warm evening; the sun was shining; a blue sky, one couldn’t see a single cloud.  
John led the way; up to the street, around the corner – and actually, there was the Italian restaurant, a bit bigger than Angelo’s and one could see a nice bar through the window.  
“That looks nice.” Sherlock said, as they walked to the fields.  
John smiled and crossed the street.  
“Yeah, and it’s very good; the food, the drinks, the atmosphere. It’s a bit like Angelo’s, just more space and in the backyard is a very nice terrace. And the owner Luca, is like Angelo, but with all his guests. He talks more with his guest than he’s working and helping his staff.” John grinned. “The most people are regular guest from Potters Bar, they all know each other more or less. It’s like a big family.”  
“That place sounds interesting.” Sherlock smiled.  
John smiled to him.

They walked on a sandy path along the blossoming fields.  
Sherlock walked at John’s side.  
They walked close to each other and at some point, Sherlock’s right arm and hand, touched John’s left arm and hand.  
“Sorry.” Sherlock said.  
John’s heart beat a bit faster, he could still feel Sherlock’s warm skin on his own, and it felt really good. He was sure, it would feel really good to hold Sherlock’s hand, to entwine their fingers, to caress the back of Sherlock’s hand with his thumb, to squeeze that hand.

John looked up to him and smiled.  
“Never mind.” John said softly.  
“What’s with ‘people will talk’?” Sherlock asked smiling.  
“Nobody is there, or do you think, the nature will talk about us?” John raised his eyebrow.  
And so did Sherlock.  
“It’s an open place, open fields; we’re not in the forest over there. People could watch us through binoculars.”  
“Oh come on, I know it’s a small town and the most people know each other, but we aren’t in a spy movie.” John smirked.  
“I have never seen a spy movie.” Sherlock stated.  
“Then, it’s about time. We will watch Mission Impossible while we are eating our takeaway.”  
“Is that necessary?” Sherlock asked with a smile.  
“Yeah, it is. Tom Cruise is a really... good actor and he does his stunts on his own. It’s my house, my rules. So you will watch it, young man.” John smiled, a charming smile, to cover up that he wanted to say something else about Tom Cruise.  
Jesus, he had almost said, that this guy is really hot.  
“If you say so, old man.” Sherlock said and couldn’t help but smile after that charming smile of John.

They walked along the fields until they reached the forest.  
John laid his hand for a short moment on Sherlock’s back.  
“Let’s turn around, I get hungry.”  
Sherlock nodded and if he would be honest with himself, he would admit that John’s hand could have stayed there the whole way back.

They sauntered back to the Italian place and John held the door open. Sherlock entered at first and mumbled a little ‘Thanks’.  
John smiled at him and led him to the bar, along the big pizza oven area, where a man makes the pizza in front of the guest.  
Luca wasn’t there, but his wife Giulia. She smiled at him. John smiled back, and looked to Sherlock.  
“Took a seat Sherlock, I just greet Giulia.” John said gently and smiled.  
John didn’t wait for an answer and walked a bit around the bar.  
Giulia hugged him and they kissed each others cheeks.  
Sherlock felt the same jealous thing in his stomach and on his heart, like the day he had seen him in these pictures with his colleague Drew.

Giulia hugged John tightly and whispered in his ear.  
“Your boyfriend?”  
“Just in my dreams. It’s Sherlock, a friend of mine. Don’t mention other guys in front of him, he doesn’t know that I’m gay. ‘Haven’t told him yet.” John murmured back.  
“A shame, he looks handsome.”  
“You betcha!”  
Giulia smirked and broke apart.

John came back to Sherlock. He sat down on the bar stool next to Sherlock.  
Giulia brought a menu card and smiled at Sherlock.  
“Hello Sherlock... I’m Giulia.”  
Sherlock looked at her and nodded with a small smile.  
“Hello.”  
She smiled and looked to John.  
“Take away, I hope... all seats are taken or at least reserved tonight.  
“Take away. We need a minute to choose.” John smiled.  
Giulia nodded and let them alone.

John looked to Sherlock.  
“I know what I want. So you can have that card. It’s all very delicious.”  
Sherlock nodded and studied the menu, during his deduction about Giulia. The owner’s wife, happily married for – at least 15 years; two children, boy and girl, the boy is the older one, she likes her job really much, is rather in the restaurant than at home, likes the guest and the hubbub.

After Sherlock had ordered his pasta and a salad, and John the salad and his pizza, John looked to Sherlock and smiled.  
“Amazing Mr. Holmes... as always, just amazing.”  
Sherlock smiled, he really liked it, when John says that.  
“You... you have done something amazing too.”  
“Me? Are you sure?”  
“I am... Mycroft had given me your book.”  
“Oh, yeah... right, he told me that. Have you finished it?”, John asked curiously.  
“Three times.” Sherlock said with a smile.  
“You’re kidding!”  
“No... I really liked it. It was very good John. I had read it through the first night. I couldn’t stop. Normally, it isn't the kind of genre I like, but I loved it. We have agreed that we’re honest with each other... so if I’m honest, I could read it hundred more times and I would still love it and it wouldn’t get boring. I have googled you, this morning, John Watson. You have very ardent fans and you become famous with your book.” Sherlock smiled.  
John’s cheeks flushed, were hot and red like his ears.  
“Thank you.” John mumbled.  
Sherlock smiled and bowed his head.  
“You’ve earned it.” Sherlock said gently.  
John scratched shyly the back of his head.

 

After half an hour, Giulia brought them the salads, the pasta and the pizza.  
John pulled out his wallet and paid; he said goodbye with Sherlock and they left the restaurant.  
“I could have paid that.” Sherlock remarked.  
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve asked you... out for some take away. So I pay the food. I mean, I have invited you, Sherlock. Let’s go home; the sofa, food and Mission Impossible: Rogue Nation, are waiting.” John smiled.  
Sherlock looked at John, who walked back home. He bowed his head and smiled; made a few big steps and walked again at John's side. 

It were just a few meters back to John’s house. They entered it; John handed Sherlock his pizza and salad and went into the kitchen.  
While Sherlock went to the sofa, John took some cutlery, two glasses and water. He brought the stuff to Sherlock, who was already sitting on the sofa.  
John switched on the telly, and searched in the media library the film they wanted to watch. He clicked ‘play’ and sat down.  
He smiled to Sherlock, who had watched him the whole time.  
“Enjoy your meal, Sherlock.”  
“You too John. And thanks for the invitation.”  
“My pleasure.” John smiled and took his pizza.

After all the food was in their stomachs, the two men leaned back.  
John slid down to the sofa; it was big enough, and he was small enough to lay on the sofa without touching Sherlock.  
“Do you mind?” John asked anyway.  
“No, I don’t mind.” Sherlock said with a smile.  
John nodded and made himself comfortable.

Sherlock squinted down to him, eyed him secretly.  
That handsome man, with this grey, sandy-blonde hair, which strands hung a bit into his face. The posture was really nice, also the little belly, which was showing through the polo shirt. The bare legs, or at least his knee, calves and shins looked good. He was tanned, obviously from his vacation in Italy and the nice sunny summer in the UK. He really liked what he saw.

Sherlock watched the movie without saying a word. At some point he looked to John and saw him deep down in his sleep.  
It was a long film, almost two and a half hours, and there was an hour to go.  
Sherlock let him sleep and watched the film alone – in some way.

 

After the movie, he studied the remote control and closed the media library and switched off the telly. It was almost completely dark in the living area, just a little floor lamp was burning.  
Sherlock stood up, he thought about to wake John up, but decided to do something else.  
He took a pillow, lifted slowly and carefully John’s head, and shoved the pillow under John's head.  
After that, he took the blanket and covered John with it.  
He looked down to the sleeping John, who cuddled his head more into the pillow and his body more into the blanket.  
Sherlock couldn’t resist, he reached out a hand to John, and let his fingers run through John’s soft hair, stroked it out of his face.  
John smiled sweetly in his sleep.  
Sherlock couldn’t help, he needed to smile; John's smile was infectious.  
“Good night John Watson.” He said with a warm and gentle voice.


	15. The reasons I closed my heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John have a touching and emotional conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's again a longer chapter. :-)

_Tuesday, morning and mid day, John's place_

The sun shone through the big ceiling-high windows in the living area.  
John was still lying on the sofa, the head lay on the pillow and he was covered under the blanket. A slight creaking noise let him open his eyes. He blinked a few times, rubbed his eyes and looked around.  
He had slept on the sofa; he must had been fallen asleep during the movie.  
John yawned and became frightened as he heard Sherlock’s voice.  
“Oh... hey, I thought you’re already awake. Morning, by the way.”  
Sherlock appeared in his sight.

John eyed him and sat up slowly. That’s when he noticed the blanket; he looked down to it and to Sherlock again. He had sleepy eyes, yawned again, stretched his whole body and ran his fingers through his hair.  
“Morning.” He mumbled sleepily. His hand stroked across the blanket and his eyes looked to the pillow. “Was that you?” John asked and looked up to Sherlock.  
Sherlock bowed his head, he was already showered and dressed.  
“It’s a silly question John. Obviously it was me, or aren’t we alone in this house.”  
John smiled and rubbed his eyes again.  
“It’s just you and me.” He murmured, and stood up slowly. “Thank you for the blanket and the pillow, Sherlock.”  
The detective nodded and watched John.  
“Didn’t you like the movie, you make me watch?” Sherlock asked.  
“No, no. I was just tired and it was cozy and comfortable. I’ve already seen the movie with Mycroft.”  
“Really, with Mycroft?” Sherlock asked amazed.  
“Yeah, not only Mycroft. We went to the cinema with a huge group. There was Mycroft and Amanda, then Greg and Molly, Sally and Anderson, Mrs. Hudson, um, my colleague Drew and her husband, and another colleague Tina, and I.” John smiled. “It was a very nice evening, with dinner, then cinema and after that a drink.”  
“It’s really strange and unfamiliar that my brother attend social groups and events.”

John smiled and rubbed over his neck.  
“He’s not as unfamiliar as you think it is.” John came to Sherlock and laid his hand on its upper arm. “I go upstairs for a shower and new clothes, and then I’ll make breakfast for us and we can talk.”  
“Um, well. If you want I could make breakfast... “ Sherlock suggested.  
“You? Will you poison my tea?” John smiled.  
“I have nothing with me to poison you, but I can search for something in your house and garden, if you want a poisoned tea.”  
John looked at Sherlock and laughed lustily.  
“No Sherlock, it’s okay... I think, I can live with a normal cup of tea.”  
John’s laugh was as infectious as his lovely smile, so Sherlock needed to grin widely.  
The doctor patted Sherlock’s shoulder.  
“I’m upstairs... I’m back in a few minutes. And thanks Sherlock.” John smiled and went to the staircase.

 

Almost an hour later, it was nearly 11 am, the two men went out to the garden.  
John walked over to the Baltic beach chair; the rattan was white, the wood was light brown, and the seating surface was striped in white and a bright blue.  
John clapped the footrest out.  
“Honestly? A Baltic beach chair John? We’re not on a beach.” Sherlock said.  
“I’m aware of that and I don’t care. I like it and it’s comfortable. Just sit down.”  
Sherlock looked at him and sighed, but sat down and laid his feet on the footrest; John joined him.

The sun was beaming right on their bodies, but their faces were in the shadow.  
John turned his head to Sherlock.  
“What happened to you?” John asked, in his voice one could hear the curiosity.  
“What exactly do you mean.” Sherlock turned his head to John.  
“I mean your past. Not the last three years. The past, your childhood and that stuff. I’ve the feeling there’s another Sherlock than the Sherlock I know. You say about yourself that you are a sociopath, but that can’t be true. A sociopath wouldn’t care if a person would get hurt or would die because of him.”  
“Maybe there isn’t another Sherlock. Maybe I’m just the freak you know.”  
“I don’t like that word. You aren’t a freak. I’m not judging you, I just want to get to know the real Sherlock. I know the Sherlock, who pretends to be the most confident person in the world, who turns up his collar to look cool and mysterious, who says that all people are idiots and who doesn’t like people. The question my dear friend is, why?” John said softly.  
“Can I trust you?”  
“Of course you can. I’m just sitting here and I’ll listen to you, and whatever you have to say, it will be safe in my... mind palace.”

Sherlock watched him, looked John into the bright blue eyes; he was thinking.  
“You don’t have to tell me, how you feel. Just tell me what happen.” John added.  
Sherlock sighed and turned his head away. He had sworn himself, he would tell John the whole story. This was the moment to be honest.  
“I... well, I was always clever and interested in a lot of things. I loved riddles and I wanted to know as much as possible. When I came to school, everybody call me a freak, because I was clever, knew a lot of things and made deductions, and because I was different. The other kids didn’t like that and they found it strange that I hadn’t the same interests. They bullied me, nobody wants to be my friend, I was on my own and completely alone in school. Mycroft was the only friend and my dog Redbeard. But Redbeard died, so there was just Mycroft... and a year later, Mycroft did the same thing, all people did and do until now - he left me. He left me and went to university. He was just like the others. I was alone, no brother, no Redbeard, no friends... my parents were often on the road. Then I left for university. It... it was just the same. Nobody wanted to be my friend, they called me names - freak and other things. They bullied me because I was different. On the campus... there was a guy... named Victor. Sometimes he talked to me and I didn’t feel different, because he was just as clever as me. I trusted him with all I had and he becomes some kind of friend. After a while, I... I fell in love with him. He asked me out on a date... it was nice... after the date, we went to his apartment on the campus. We... sat down on his sofa; he asked me, to take off my shirt... and I did it. Then... we nearly kissed; he was really close, but then he laughed... and suddenly there were a lot of people, his friends... and they laughed too, they made fun of me. It was all just a prank. The whole thing was just a prank; the nice conversations, the date... that almost-kiss, just to bully me a bit more. Victor was the first and the last person I trusted with my life and I fell in love with.”

John blinked a few times and swallowed. He was speechless and felt really sorry for Sherlock.  
The detective looked at his feet, swallowed; he looked insecure, and like a little battered puppy.  
John bowed his head.  
“I’m... I’m really sorry for that Sherlock. You aren’t a sociopath Sherlock, quite the opposite; I think, you’re a really emotional person. You’ve built a really huge wall around your heart and probably that wall is barbed. So that nobody is able to reach your heart, because you’re afraid that somebody will hurt you again. And I can understand that... you want to protect yourself, you want to protect your probably really big heart. And that’s in a way logical. No friends, people calling you names and they still do, like Sally;... your dog died, you had the feeling Mycroft had left you behind, then that really bad prank. You have closed your heart so much Sherlock and pretend to be confident and cool and cold hearted. But I think, you would have liked to have friends, to have a partner... I think you miss that; I think you care a lot what people think about you and I think you take, especially the word freak, enormously to your heart. You’re deeply heart broken.” John said gently and in a warm voice.

Sherlock didn’t look up and didn’t say a word, he swallowed; John was absolutely right. He felt John’s hand on his own and heard is voice again.  
“You know... there are always people who are jealous or people one didn’t like... and life isn’t perfect... there is always someone, who hurts you - intentional or accidental. You can’t protect yourself from all the bad things in life, because if you do that you’re as unhappy as before and just pretend to be happy. That’s the thing with you... you protect yourself so much, that you can’t trust anyone, that you can’t love someone... that you need to make a show of your life, instead of being the person you are. And look, I like you, I like the cold hearted, mad, rude and unsocial Sherlock, just imagine how much I would like the caring, friendly, laughing and smiling Sherlock.” John’s voice was as warm as before, is hand lay still on Sherlock’s.

Sherlock bit his lower lip, in a way he didn’t want to hear that, because it was just so true. He wasn’t able to say something. And he was glad, that he heard John’s voice again.  
“Do you know what you did? What you did, when you close your heart like this? You did exactly the same thing, like the people you hate so much. You have prejudices because the other people are different... you calling them names, like ‘idiot’ and all the other names, and you abuse them. You don’t want to be their friend. You don’t let them into your life, into your head, into your heart. Sally is calling you a freak and you make rude deductions about her, to hurt her too. Anderson is bullying you and you call him names and abuse him, because he isn’t the brightest candle. Greg and Mycroft want to be your friends and you kick them off, get upset, especially with Myc. Then there is this Dr. John Hamish Watson... who wants to be your friend, who wants to be in your life, in your head, in your heart, but you didn’t let him in. You didn’t share thoughts and that stuff with him. You left him behind at crime scenes, at home, at restaurants... without saying a word.”

Sherlock swallowed again, he didn’t look to John, it wasn’t a great feeling to hear that and to know that it was the truth. Every word John said, was the plain truth.  
John bowed his head, squeezed Sherlock’s hand.  
“It isn’t great to hear that, isn’t it? And to know that this is true. That’s the thing with your deductions. There are people, who didn’t want to hear that, especially when you tell them bad things. There are people, who didn’t want to know that things, they rather live with a lie, than to know the truth. This way is much easier than the other. And people want to have the easy way in life.”  
“You... You are... you are right.” Sherlock murmured with a low voice.  
John nodded, squeezed Sherlock’s hand again.  
“And shall I tell you something... all these people... I mean, Sally, Anderson, Greg, your brother, me... we’re all still with you. There are Sally and Anderson, who are just jealous and didn’t want to hear the truth, but care in a way. There is Greg, who has a huge respect for what you do, but didn’t know how to handle you. There is me, who just like you the way you are and live with the mad things you do. And there is Mycroft, your brother... who cares about you so much, who loves you so much and who is desperate, because he didn’t know how to handle you.”

Sherlock listened, and then shook his head and turned to John. His eyes were damp, but he didn’t cry.  
“Mycroft doesn’t care, he wants to control me, that’s all.” Sherlock mumbled, but was insecure about the things he said.  
John smiled gently and shook his head.  
“No my dear genius, you’re wrong. He cares... I know it’s not an ordinary way to care, because he sends his minions after you, offer money to people to get information about you, but it’s the only solution he has, because every time he shows himself, you get really upset.”  
“He doesn’t care John, he left me behind and just wants to show that he’s better and cleverer than me.”

John caressed Sherlock’s hand with his thumb.  
“That’s absolute bullshit Sherlock. We talked about you, he told me stories; how you were running through the garden, with your sword and dog, and he told me that you two often played pirates, that you two were reading together and that you two have had a great chemistry. You should have seen him, how he smiled and beamed when he talked about the little Sherlock. He said always, that he misses you a lot, that he misses you really deeply; and I thought he meant that, because you were... you were dead. But, actually, I think, he said that, because he misses his little brother, the brother he had before he left for university.”  
Sherlock looked at him with doubt.  
“Oh, come on John, sounds this like Mycroft?” Sherlock said, but was as insecure about that as before, he couldn't believe it and he didn't want to believe it.  
“Yes. You thought he had left you behind, but that wasn’t the case... Mycroft wanted to be with you, he wanted to be there for you. But over the years, you closed your heart more and more and he didn’t know what to do with you, he didn’t know how he could get back his beloved little brother. Oh Jesus, Sherlock; you can’t imagine how much he loves you. I have told you that it doesn’t matter how far away a true friend is, he’ll be there in a way or another. It’s the same with siblings; and Mycroft isn’t just your brother, he’s a true friend, too. You two should talk, Sherlock.”  
Sherlock pursed his lips, he didn’t look pleased, he didn’t know if he could trust John’s words and Mycroft’s feelings.

John took his hand away and raised an eyebrow.  
“Just try it some day.” He said. “And try to remove these high walls around your heart; try to trust other people, try to like them, although they aren’t as clever as you, although they haven’t the same opinion. Believe me, there are people out there, which you can trust. And you aren’t alone, you’ve Greg, your brother, your parents, Amanda, Molly, Sally, Anderson, Mr. Hudson, me. And you aren’t a sociopath, nor a freak. You are a really clever and smart man. I think you would be a really likeable person, if you would destroy those walls; you could have friends... and I’m sure you could find a man or woman. I like you Sherlock, I like you the way you are... but I think, you would feel better, you would be happier... and I would be happier, because I would know that you’re fine.” John said with a gentle and warm voice.

Sherlock watched him, ran his finger through his hair. All the things John had said were right. He had closed his heart, to protect it with all he has. He had really big trust issues. And he lived in his own world, with his mind palace and the cases; just the facts, no sentiment – safety for his heart.  
But how could John know what to do: he hadn’t experienced something like that.

“Why do you tell me what to do John... how can you know what to do, what would be the best to do? You weren’t or aren’t in a situation like that. You are not such a person, who hadn’t friends or got bullied. You’re a nice guy, charming, without these problems. You can’t talk, like you would know how it is.” Sherlock said.

John watched him, his heart hurts after Sherlock's monologue. He had a lump in his throat, bowed his had and tried to clear his throat.  
“Well... then feel free to delete all the things I’ve said Sherlock. You’re able to do that. I just wanted to give an advice. It’s your decision... I’m not telling you what to do. I’ve listened to you... and I feel really sorry for that all, for the things at school, your dog, the misunderstanding with Myc and that horrible prank; and I will keep it safe.  
“I’m not upset with you John. I just wanted to say it."  
“Me too.” John nodded. “Nevertheless... I think you need a hug this time. May I?”  
The truth was, that he needed a hug as well.  
He was lucky – Sherlock nodded.

John turned to Sherlock and pulled him into a little hug – and Sherlock hugged him back.  
The detective has touched a sore point. But John hasn’t the courage to say it. He hadn’t the courage to tell him, that his childhood and youth and the time when he was a young adult wasn’t as good as he maybe thinks it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Btw, thanks for all the kudos and comments, yet, from all of you :-)


	16. Bad conscience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John has a bad conscience about his advice this noon.

_Tuesday, late at night_

John lay in his bed; he couldn’t sleep, had a bad conscience. He had given Sherlock advice what to do in his situation; what to do with a broken heart, and what to do with his big trust issues, but hadn’t had the courage to tell him, that he had been in a situation like that himself. At last, it was a different situation, but with the same result; trust issues and a broken heart.  
At the moment he had the courage, he could feel it; he could feel that he has the courage to tell Sherlock his story and with that, his feelings for him.  
He kicked back the blanket, stood up, grabbed a tee shirt and a pajama pants and slipped into both of it. It wouldn’t be right to tell Sherlock, that he was gay and in love with him, and sitting at his side, with just his boxer briefs.  
He left his room and knocked at the guest room door.

From the inside he could hear Sherlock’s deep voice, it was a bit sleepy.  
“You can come in, John.” The man inside the room murmured.  
John took a deep breath, cleared his throat and entered the room.  
“Hey...” John said with a low voice, and came to the bed. “May I sit down?”  
Sherlock watched him, nodded, sat up, switched the bedside lamp on, and leaned his back against the backrest. He rubbed his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair.  
John watched him too, sat down on the edge of the bed.  
“What’s up? It’s after midnight... normally you sleep at this time.”

John nodded, looked at his hands and back to Sherlock.  
“I feel bad about our conversation this noon. You told me I couldn’t give you advice... and I agreed. That wasn’t right... I have a bad conscience. You think, you couldn’t trust my words, because you think I was never in a situation like this... but that’s not true. I was. I know it’s late and you look like you wanted to fall asleep in the next few minutes, but I have to tell you that. I don’t know if I have the courage in the morning.” John murmured.  
Sherlock bowed his head.  
“It’s okay. You have listened to me, now I’m listening to you."  
“Could you put on a tee... it’s distracting.” John mumbled. He pulled the tee-shirt from the wing chair and reached it to Sherlock.  
“Distracting?” Sherlock asked, but grabbed the tee-shirt and pulled it over his head.  
“Yeah... um you will know in a few minutes, why it is distracting.”  
Sherlock raised his eyebrow.

There was silence between the two men; Sherlock waited and John searched for the right words.  
“Just start from the scratch.” Sherlock said.  
John nodded and looked into Sherlock’s face.  
“I have lied to you Sherlock. I have lied to protect myself, and out of fear. Every time someone made a comment about us being a couple. Every time I said, that I’m not gay, I lied; but that’s a big lie. I am. I am gay, absolutely gay. I couldn’t even imagine a relationship or just sex, just a kiss with a woman. I kissed one woman in my youth, but it felt horrible bad and false.”  
“That’s your big lie? That you are gay? You could have told me that, I mean you asked me too, the first time we were at Angelo’s. I haven’t a problem with that. I don’t care, who is in love with whom, or if someone fancy men or women. Have I made the impression, that I’m homophobic?” Sherlock asked gently.

John shook is head.  
“No, you haven’t... there are other reasons why I haven’t told you that.”  
“Tell me... I would like to understand, why you haven’t told me that and why you yelled every time, that you aren’t gay. And what it is with the women you have dated.” Sherlock said curiously but softly.

“I will.” John nodded and cleared his throat. “You know that Harry is a lesbian. When she told that my parents, my father kicked her out of the house... out of the family. He was very angry with her, he couldn’t understand that and he was extremely homophobic after that... in context to me. I knew, that I was gay, but after that with Harry, I didn’t say anything. My father wore the trousers, my mother wasn’t allowed to say anything. He forbid me to see my male friends, because he was afraid I could become gay. So I lost some of these friends because I wasn’t in their presence anymore. After a while, I met some of them secretly... but my father saw us, yelled at me, dragged me home... and there, he punched and slapped me. Nevertheless, I tried to see my old friends, and every time he found out, he punched and slapped me. My mother said nothing, she saw the bruises and the blue eyes... but she said nothing, she did nothing, because she was afraid to be the next. One day... I was with a boy, and old friend, we kissed each other and my father caught us. When we were at home, he punched and slapped and kicked me, he clobbered me so hard, that we have to drive to the hospital. He told them all a adventurous story, from a guy in a dark alleyway, and that I haven’t seen who it was. I was too afraid to say something.”

Sherlock looked at him with wide eyes, his mouth hung open, he wanted to say something, but John took a deep breath, cleared his throat and went on with talking.  
“From that day, he punched me every time as much as he could without taking me to the hospital. My few friends find out that I was gay... some of them bullied me, punched me too. Then I left for university... my father died shortly after I left; one of the best things that happened in my life, if I’m honest. University was the same... after a few people found out that I am gay, they punched me. There were a few friends, like Mike... but,... you know, I really like him, but he was a misfit, so was I. I went to gay bars and clubs, found a boyfriend... we met secretly, because I couldn’t trust someone else. We broke apart after a while... I found sex in gay bars... got clobbered on the street, from people I didn’t even know.”

John scratched the back of his head and saw the shocked Sherlock in front of him.  
“Then I left for the Army... you know, men having sex with men in the army, it’s an open secret. Handjobs, blowjobs, anal sex. It’s a good cover for gay men, that there are less women. I have had a kind of a boyfriend, but... we needed to meet secretly and it’s more difficult to do that in the Army. When I was shot and I was back in London, I wanted to find a partner. I didn’t want just sex... I wanted a partner, a family – safety. A man, who could hold and comfort me. I was again in a gay bar... and when I Ieft the bar, six guys beat the living daylight out of me. I couldn’t do anything, not against six muscly guys. I woke up in the hospital and had sworn me, that I wouldn’t tell anybody, who I will meet in future, that I’m gay. I was afraid to get punched, to lose someone... I wasn’t able to trust anyone, with that.”

Sherlock laid his hand on John’s upper arm.  
“Jesus... John... I’m sorry. I’m sorry for my stupid babbling this noon, that you couldn’t give me advice, that you didn’t know what it is like to be bullied. And I’m terribly sorry... for your dad and mom... and for that whole thing. Your dad maltreated you... god I’m so sorry John.” Sherlock said and swallowed.  
“It’s... it’s okay, you couldn’t know that, and I hadn’t the courage to say something this noon. I’m talking about that with my new psychiatrist, so it gets better, and I have learned to trust people with that. I come out half a year after your mad rooftop-thing.”  
“That means the others know it; Greg and Mycroft, Mrs. Hudson... and the others?” Sherlock asked.  
John nodded and smiled a bit.  
“Yeah... they know it. Myc was the first one.”  
“Really? I would have said Greg... ”  
“No... I really like Greg, but... god knows why, I have a much better chemistry with your brother. And he was always there, to comfort me and to help me, and yeah, then I told him that... the whole story, he’s the only one who knows the whole story. The others just know that I’m gay.”  
“You hid it very well from me.” Sherlock stated with a small smile, and squeezed John’s upper arm.

John looked at him, bit his lower lip and got flushed.  
“There is a reason... why I hid it very well, especially from you.”  
Sherlock bowed his head.  
“Because of my deductions?”  
“Yeah... and you have failed until now... or you don’t want to make deductions about me anymore.”  
Sherlock looked puzzled.

John smiled and scratched his neck. He began to talk with a warm and gentle voice.  
“When we first met... you and I; I thought you were interesting, I wanted to get to know you. Then there was that case with the pink lady and in the end we went to Angelo’s. I asked you about a boyfriend or girlfriend, to calculate my chances. It seemed that you were gay... or at least bisexual, but that you like man a bit more, because you said, that a girlfriend isn’t your area and that you wouldn’t have a boyfriend. However,... suddenly you told me, that you are not interested in such a thing and that you’re married to your work. So I told myself not to fall in love with you. I wasn’t successful. The harder I tried not to fall in love with you, the harder I fell. I fell head over heels in love with you... in a really hopelessly way, with the bottom of my heart... and with all I had. I was afraid... if I would tell you, that I’m gay, you would deduce that I’m in love with you... and that you wouldn’t like that and kick me off. There were two options... being your friend, secretly in love with you, in your near, although I can’t have what I want from you and I’m not able to give you what I want to give you... or telling you that whole thing, in the worst case after that being without you, without being your friend, without your presence. I choose to be your friend, obviously... better, your friend... than nothing. And I didn’t date these women, that were just nice evenings in a restaurant or cinema, or what else - making new friends.“

Sherlock’s heart raced very fast, his eyes were big, his mouth was dry, he has forgotten how to breath. He snapped for air.  
“You... you were in love with me?” Sherlock asked in disbelieve. How could someone like John love him, he asked himself. Someone like him, a good looking, handsome guy; someone who’s funny, charming, smart and loyal.  
John shook his head.  
“You say it the wrong way... it’s not the past... I am still in love with you Sherlock. I am still in love with you, with the bottom of my heart and all I have.”  
Sherlock‘s heart skipped a beat again and again. John was in love with him. With him!

John looked down to his hands and then up to Sherlock again.  
“I thought, I would never be able to tell you that in person. I thought, I had missed my chance. I thought, if I would have told you that before the rooftop-thing, you wouldn’t have jumped. I thought, you didn’t feel loved and that would have been wrong, because you were... and you are loved, really much. I have said it every week, at your grave... it was my goodbye... ’I love you’,... but it’s better, to say it in person. I hope I didn’t scare you off with that.”

Sherlock opened and closed his mouth a few times; his voice was lost, he was speechless. He needed a moment to find his voice again.  
“Me?... You are in love with me? I... you, well, you didn’t scare me off with that.”  
“I am Sherlock. And I didn’t? Did I do it right? The deduction about your sexual orientation?” He smiled a bit more.  
Sherlock swallowed and bowed his head.  
“Um... well, there had only been Victor... so I guess,... I like men. I mean, I have no experiences with that, no kiss or something else. It’s obvious, right. I mean, I have told you about that prank and the consequences.” Sherlock babbled.

John bowed his head, smiled a bit more, a bit more charming.  
“Um, so... I am a man, is there any chance for me?"  
“Ma-may-maybe.” Sherlock stuttered.  
John’s fingertips caressed across the bare skin on Sherlock’s forearm.  
“May I flirt with you.. and try my luck, to make you fall in love with me?”  
Sherlock looked to his forearm and John’s fingertips. He got goose bumps.  
John’s right fingertips caressed across Sherlock’s forearm, down to its hand and fingers. His fingertips caressed Sherlock’s palm.

Sherlock swallowed hard. That felt really nice. He looked up to John, into his eyes. John sight was soft, hopeful, charming. And his smile went bigger, when he saw Sherlock nod.  
“You... You can do that.” Sherlock murmured.  
John gave him a charming smile and winked.  
“Then I will flirt with you Mr. Sherlock Holmes.” He played with Sherlock’s finger. “And I will try my luck to win your heart.” He said and draw a circle with the left forefinger around Sherlock’s heart.  
Sherlock eyed him; John’s right fingertips, his left forefinger, that smile and the wink, let his heart race like mad, his stomach tingled wildly.  
“Now you know, why your naked chest was distracting me, you handsome bloke. Don’t walk around without a tee. If you do it anyway, I can’t guarantee anything.” John winked charmingly.  
Sherlock got flushed.

John took his hands off and bowed his head.  
“I will let you sleep now.” John smiled and stood up. He took Sherlock’s hand in his own again and bent down to Sherlock. His lips kissed Sherlock’s hair at the side of the head; soft and very lightly, it has been just a wisp.  
“Sleep well, Sherlock.”

Sherlock took a deep breath, his heart freaked out as well as his stomach.  
He looked up to John, who smiled softly. The only thing he was able to do was a small nod.  
John smiled, squeezed Sherlock’s hand and took his hand off. He patted his shoulder and went to the door.  
Sherlock cleared his throat and mumbled,  
“Good night... John. Sleep well.”  
John turned around again, smiled with beaming eyes.  
“I will Sherlock.”  
He left the guest room and closed the door.

That went really well. He would show him, how awesome and great love could be, how much he deserves it and that love works for him.

Sherlock couldn’t calm down. His heart still freaked out as much as his stomach. He had liked that little Goodnight-kiss, John’s caresses, his charming smile, the winks, that flirty, soft voice. He needed to get used to it. He needed to try what John had told him in the noon. Trust and lower or remove the walls around his heart, at least and for the beginning, for that handsome, lovely John Watson. And then he would ask John to show him what it means to be loved, what it is like to be with someone you trust and love, what it is like to kiss, cuddle, caress and have… sex.  
He needed to do that for his own heart and for John. He needed to trust him with that. That he would take care of him, that he loves him as much as he had told him.  
He knows he likes him very much, much more than a friend, and he knew, he would fall head over heels in love with that man in a really deep way.  
The only thing that was in the way, were his own trust issues, his broken heart, his high walls.  
He was the man, who needed to do something about that.  
And now he had a really good reason and motivation to do it.  
John’s love.


	17. Flirtmode

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John is in his flirtmode and tries to win Sherlock's heart and trust.

_Wednesday_

The night was short.  
John had felt better after he had told Sherlock what was on his mind, but it didn’t let him sleep very well. There was a chance; the chance to become Sherlock's boyfriend and he didn’t want to ruin his chance. That’s why he had brooded over what to do; what to do to win his heart, instead of sleeping. He needed him badly as more than just a friend, as more than just his best friend.  
Sherlock was the one man; the one man, he had searched for. When he was with Sherlock he felt safe and at home, where ever they were.  
And when he was allowed to flirt with that handsome genius, then Sherlock must feel a bit more like just friendship.

John stood in the bathroom, wore his dark blue jeans and a white tee shirt and brushed his teeth. The door wasn’t closed, it stood slightly open.  
Sherlock pushed the door open and came into the bathroom, with his dark shorts and the grey tee-shirt John had given him last night. He rubbed his eyes and looked to the basin, where he saw John.  
The doctor had turned around and looked at him with a smile and the toothbrush in his mouth.  
Sherlock looked at him, scratched the back of his head.  
“Um... sorry, I thought the bathroom would be free, the door was open.” Sherlock said with flushed cheeks.  
John smiled and spilled out the foam, hold the toothbrush in his hand.  
“A few years ago, you didn’t mind to disturb my privacy. And it’s okay Sherlock. I know you are here and when the door is open you can come in.” He winked softly and turned around to the basin.

Sherlock came a bit nearer to him, while John cleaned his mouth and the toothbrush. He laid his hand on John’s shoulder, who looked up in the mirror and smiled at Sherlock.  
“Everything okay with you, John? After last night?” Sherlock asked.  
John turned slowly around and looked up.  
“Yeah... I’m fine, I’ve talked much about this with my psychiatrist, so it’s in a way okay for me now that this all had happened. And it’s good to have it out of my mind, it’s good that you know about my feelings for you. Is everything okay between us?” John bowed his head.  
Sherlock nodded.  
“Yes, John, everything is fine. It’s just a really new situation, to be honest, and an area I don’t know much about. Are you sure that everything is fine? You look tired.”

John smiled and stroked across Sherlock's upper arm.  
“I’m sure. I feel good. I was just lying around last night and thought about a strategy to destroy the wall between me and your heart, which flirt mode I will need.” He smiled charmingly.  
Sherlock smiled, his cheeks were red and hot.  
“I think, I have found a strategy; you have flushed cheeks, sweetheart.” John winked.  
He smirked as he saw, that Sherlock’s cheeks got a darker red.

Sherlock needed to clear his throat, his heart was racing again, and his stomach tingled, just because of John’s wink, that warm voice and the name he called him – sweetheart.  
“Um,... what, what would you do... if I would be yours... I mean, if we would be a couple?” He dared to ask.  
“Now? Or in general?”  
“Now.” Sherlock murmured.  
“I would give you a good morning kiss.” John smiled.  
Sherlock swallowed and asked another question.  
“Where?”  
John raised his eyebrow and smiled with warm, beaming eyes, he lifted his hand, laid it on Sherlock’s cheek, which had a little stubble, and caressed with his thumb softly and carefully over Sherlock’s lips. His blue eyes were locked with Sherlock’s.  
Sherlock’s heart and stomach couldn’t handle this, they freaked out, like last night.  
John smiled, took his thumb away and bowed his head.  
“You look like you pass out every second, so I would say, the flirting is enough for you at the moment... ” He stood up on his tip toes and murmured into Sherlock’s ear. “And maybe a little peck.” His lips gave Sherlock’s temple the promised little peck.

Sherlock had closed his eyes as John’s lips met his skin.  
He would have allowed John to give him a kiss, but John was right, he almost passed out. In a way he was really curious what a kiss would feel like, but he was really glad that John was patient with him.  
Probably he already was in love with John; his heart was racing, his stomach tingled, he thought about him very often, he wanted to be in his immediate proximity; he flushed, he likes his body, his smile, he winks, his warm and soft voice, the flirting, that grey sandy-blonde hair.

John sank at his feet again and rubbed across Sherlock’s back.  
“Good Morning Sherlock.”  
Sherlock opened his eyes again.  
“Morning.” He mumbled.  
John winked and broke apart from Sherlock.  
“I let you on your own, so that you can do what you wanted to do. I’m downstairs, making breakfast.”  
Sherlock nodded and John went to the bathroom door.

John looked back to Sherlock.  
“Oh, and after breakfast I need to do some work. Some mails and making some notes for an appointment next Monday. So if you like, you could drive to London or whatever you want to do... I don’t want that you get bored. Feel free to make whatever you want.”  
Sherlock turned to him and shook his head.  
“I’m staying here... it’s never boring with you, John Watson.” Sherlock smiled.  
“Are you flirting with me?” John smiled.  
“I don’t even know, how to flirt.”  
“That was pretty good... I’m glad that you stay here.” John beamed.  
He winked, before he closed the bathroom door.

Sherlock stood there, in the middle of the bathroom and tried to calm down.  
Trust.  
Trust was the keyword to find, probably, true happiness and love in his life.  
He just needed a few more clues and information, that this was true, that this wasn’t a prank. That it wasn’t a prank from John to revenge the faked death and the last three years.

 

It was afternoon, when they both sat in the living room; John on the sofa and Sherlock in an armchair. They had both a cup of tea in their hands, the music played gently in the background, out of a hi-fi equipment.  
Sherlock looked to John, who was sitting comfortably on the sofa and looked over his teacup to him, with a soft smile.  
Sherlock smiled back.  
“What’s the appointment next Monday?”  
“It’s about my book.” John smiled “And no,... I won’t tell you more about that. I don’t want to spoil it. It’s an appointment to make a decision and before there isn’t a decision I will not tell you anything.” John smirked softly.  
“You’re stubborn.” Sherlock smiled.  
“And you’re impatient.” John smiled.  
Sherlock smirked and nodded.  
“That’s true... I can’t deny it.”  
John grinned. 

He had enjoyed the morning; Sherlock had let him work in peace; had read a book from the bookshelf.  
They had eaten lunch and after that, Sherlock went on with the book and John with his work.  
John drank a sip from his tea; Sherlock was still smirking.  
“What's about your new book?”  
John grinned wildly.  
“No! I’m not going to tell you something about that. Myc has told you that, hasn’t he?”  
“Yes, he has, after I was ready with The Hobbit.” Sherlock grinned. “Come on John, just a little information.”  
“It will be a book, love.” John grinned.  
Sherlock felt a warm vibe in his whole body, especially in his heart. He liked these pet names very much. They made him feel warm and happy, loved and safe.

John’s answer made him laugh, and John felt the same warm vibe in his whole body. It was great to hear that deep voice laughing, to see that man laughing; the wrinkles, the beaming eyes. It was a true laugh.  
“A bit more precisely John.” Sherlock laughed.  
“It will be three books, with pages and letters.” John grinned.  
Sherlock rolled his eyes, while he was laughing.  
John grinned, he liked the warm feeling in his body and he liked it to see Sherlock like that. He hadn’t heard him laughing like that; not this much, not this true and warm hearted. 

Sherlock put his teacup on the coffee table and stood up.  
“Three books? I’m gonna go in for a closer look.” He grinned and went to the wooden dining table; where John’s laptop stood.  
John followed him with his eyes, grinned, as he saw him standing in front of his laptop. It was password locked and he could see how Sherlock was thinking about the possibly password.  
“Keep your bloody hands off.” John laughed.  
“What about... Noooo.” Sherlock laughed.

He wanted to type in a word, but a pillow hit his face and landed on the keyboard.  
Sherlock looked up and saw a laughing John Watson, who punched the air in celebration.  
Sherlock grinned and threw it back, but John caught the pillow easily with one hand.  
“Come back, love. It’s about a ring.” John said gently.  
Sherlock bowed his head, he could hear that all day, all day these pet names. He looked to John, who put his teacup on the coffee table and pressed the pillow against his chest.

The laptop was forgotten and Sherlock came back to John, not to the armchair, but to the sofa. John smiled up, grabbed Sherlock’s wrist and pulled him down to his side. He pressed the pillow to Sherlock’s chest and smiled softly.  
“You need to practice your pitch, sweetheart.” John said warmly and tousled Sherlock’s hair with his hand.  
There it was again, the warm tingle in his stomach - Sherlock enjoyed it. And he wanted to feel it again, the tingle and John’s hand in his hair; he wanted to hear those words again – love, sweetheart, maybe some other pet names.  
“I will write it on my to-do-list.” Sherlock smiled.

John nodded with a smile and Sherlock put the pillow away, he turned more to John.  
“You mentioned ring... the ring? The ring from your first book?”  
John smiled and nodded.  
“Yeah, it’s about that ring. And now... keep your mouth shut.” John winked.  
“Are you trusting me, that I won’t use your laptop at night?”  
“Yeah, I trust you.”  
“Why?”  
“I know that I can trust you. You won’t use my laptop to read the script, because you changed... and you’re patient, you can be patient, and you were... with me... four weeks. You’ve waited for me four weeks, although you wanted to see me. You’ve waited and gave me the time I had needed. You haven’t searched for me... and I trust you, that you will be patient with the new books. I’m very thankful for your patience, Sherlock. Thanks for that, thanks for the time you have given me.”  
Sherlock bowed his head, smiled a bit.  
“There were people who had told me it would be worthwhile... and they were right. And... you can trust me.”  
John smiled and laid his fingertips on Sherlock’s hand, the forefinger drew little circles.  
“You can trust me, too.” He said with a loving voice.

They were sitting really close, their knees were touching and John’s hand rested on Sherlock’s hand. There was silence, a comfortable silence between them. The only thing one could hear was the soft music in the background.  
And there was a second noise, which they could hear just for themselves.  
John could hear his heart, it beat against his chest, in his ears.  
Sherlock could hear his heart, it beat fast and loud against his chest and in his ears. He was afraid John would hear it too.  
They lifted their sights, looked each other in the eyes.  
A sizzling atmosphere.

John couldn’t resist, he leaned forward and breathed a careful and tender kiss on Sherlock’s cheek.  
They looked at each other.  
Sherlock had red flushed cheeks and ears, and he looked shyly.  
He mustered John and swallowed.  
John was sitting there, with red flushed cheeks and a shy look.  
“I... I like your beard... by the way.” John murmured frantically.  
Sherlock smiled shyly and so did John.

He was just too cute, this John Watson; Sherlock thought with a warm feeling.


	18. It feels like cheating on you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Thursday and John has his psychiatrist session, but this time he isn't alone.

_Thursday, early in the morning, Potter’s Bar_

It was already 8.13 am, when John left the bathroom. Today was his weekly appointment with his psychiatrist at nine o’clock. Every Thursday he left the house at 8.30 am and that was just seventeen minutes away, and he hadn’t had breakfast until now. It seemed that he had dawdled this morning. He needed to hurry up a bit, if he wanted to have a small cup of tea and at least a toast. He could have a proper breakfast after his session.  
And on top of that, he had forgotten to tell Sherlock, that he has this appointment today. He would write him a note.

John hurried down the stairs, along the dining table, into the hallway and then into the kitchen. He jerked, as he saw Sherlock. The man was standing in the kitchen, making himself a cup of tea.  
In the last few days, Sherlock had been asleep at least until 9 o’clock. However, today he was fully clothed and showered.  
John bowed his head, smiled and enjoyed the nice tingling in his stomach and the faster pace of his heart, whenever he saw that lovely man.  
“Sherlock... “ John said with a soft voice.  
He closed the distance and lay his hand on Sherlock's back.

Sherlock turned his head to him; a smile flitted across his face.  
“Hey... morning.” Sherlock said with his deep voice.  
“Yeah... morning, honey. Why are you already awake?” John said gently.

He stroked across Sherlock’s back; and he couldn’t hold back these pet names for him. It felt too good to call him love, or sweetheart, or even honey. And it seemed that Sherlock liked that too; he flushed and he couldn’t wipe the smile from his face. Actually, he smiled even more.

“Um... I woke up at five o’clock and couldn’t get back to sleep. Don’t know why, I was just wide awake. You look a bit stressed.” Sherlock said softly.  
Honey – His heart throbbed against his chest. Oh, he liked these pet names from John, and he couldn’t decide which of them he liked the most.  
Probably John would kiss him right now, a good morning kiss, a hug, maybe even a little snuggle – if they would be a couple. The thought about that was in a way really good and he wanted to feel that, but on the other side it was absolutely overwhelming.

“But you’re fine?” John asked. His hand still stroked across Sherlock’s back. “I’m actually, a bit in a hurry. I have my psychiatrist session at nine; I’m sorry, I had forgotten to tell you that yesterday.”  
“Oh, right. Yes, I’m fine. Take my tea John. There isn’t sugar in it, so you can make it ready, the way you like... one sugar... and a bit of milk.” Sherlock smiled.  
“Oh, that’s nice. Thank you, love... “ John smiled. He rubbed over Sherlock’s back. “Could you make it ready, please? Then I could make me a toast.” He asked.  
Sherlock nodded and smiled at him.

While John was making is toast with jam, Sherlock made the tea for John, the way John liked it. He turned his head to him and saw him already eating his full of jam toast. It was almost, more jam than toast.  
“You’re addicted to jam, John Watson.” Sherlock smiled and winked boldly.  
“And I’m addicted to you, flirting with me.” John smiled charmingly and winked.  
Sherlock's calmness was ruined by the flirting John again. He flushed, but a wide contented smile flitted across his face.

John smiled and nudged Sherlock’s stomach with his fingertip.  
“I’m back at 10.30 am, Sherlock.”  
“Can... can I come with you?” Sherlock asked.  
“You want to come with me? Um, well, yeah. If you want, you can come with me. There are a lot of magazines and a few books, so you will have something to do.”  
“Great.” Sherlock smiled.

John smiled, ate his toast and drank the tea Sherlock had made for him. He looked at his watch.  
8.30 am – like always.  
They slipped into their shoes and left the house.

“We have to walk twenty minutes.” John said with a smile.  
Sherlock just nodded and walked at his side. He felt good and balanced; although he hadn’t helped Greg with a case the last days; although he actually wasn’t on a crime scene since he was back; although he hadn’t done any experiments in the last weeks.  
He was busy with John; with John and the reunion, and after that, with John and the I’m gay-and-in-love-with-you-night.  
John does him good, very good; that whole love thing does him good.

“Sherlock?... Love?” John asked. “Are you in your mind palace, handsome genius?” His voice was gentle.  
“Sorry... just a bit in thoughts.” He turned his head to John. “Have you said something?”  
“Yes... “ John smiled. “I wanted to know, if I can take you out for a proper breakfast after my session. There is a nice patisserie. Just a little... breakfast date.”  
Sherlock bowed his head. He needed to calm down. A date, with John.  
“I would love to go out with you... to your little breakfast date.” Sherlock said with a beating heart.  
John beamed at him, his blue eyes shone like mad. It showed the same happiness, that Sherlock was feeling inside his heart and stomach. And he couldn’t help, but beam at him in the same way. John’s facial expressions were infectious.

 

They had walked to the psychiatrist, and Sherlock had amused himself with the magazines in the waiting area.  
John’s psychiatrist knew about John’ past, about Sherlock and about John’s feelings towards Sherlock; and as John and that psychiatrist left the room an hour later, one could see that he was pleased with John.  
John smiled to Sherlock and grabbed his wrist.  
“Come on... ”  
Sherlock stood up, nodded to the psychiatrist and left the surgery with John.

On the street Sherlock looked to John.  
“He looked very pleased with you.”  
“Yeah... I’ve told him about Tuesday... that you know about my feelings and that there’s a chance for me, to make you fall in love with me too.” John smiled widely. He beamed and grabbed Sherlock’s shirt, pulled a bit at it. “Come on sweetheart... I want to have breakfast with you.” John said with a happy and excited voice.

Sherlock watched him; it was unbelievable how fast John was able to destroy his calmness and how fast he makes him smile and beam and happy in a really real way.  
He had missed him terribly in the last three years. He was the person, he had missed the most, with a very big gap to the second place. And then he had seen that lovely Italian Selfie; that little, true smile; his grey sandy-blonde hair, more grey than sandy-blonde, and longer – but damn it, it makes him really handsome and adorable and if he was honest – sexy.

They reached the patisserie, took a seat under a sunshade; ordered their breakfast, two glasses of water, two cups of tea, a vegetarian English breakfast, a sandwich and two eclairs.  
John beamed to Sherlock, the cutlery in his hands.  
“It’s great to go out with you. I’ve missed that, really much. I liked it to go out with you, even if you hadn’t eaten or left the restaurant. However,... this is much better, to eat with you, and to know that you didn’t leave the location... suddenly. It’s great,... I love it.” John said delightedly.  
“I... I liked it too, it was nice... even if my eating habits weren’t great. And I missed it, I really missed it... and I missed you, John. It’s great to be with you... I didn’t even miss Baker Street.” Sherlock smiled as much as John.  
“That’s a huge compliment... and you can stay as long as you want. You didn’t have to leave... not today... not tomorrow and not in a thousand years.” John smiled widely. He pointed with his fork to Sherlock. “And don’t say, that this isn’t possible.” He grinned softly.  
Sherlock shut his mouth and grinned too.

Sherlock enjoyed the breakfast, it was great with John; he pulled him out of his boredom with very small things, with just a little breakfast – just sitting around in the sun, eating, drinking, talking.

John paid at the end of their breakfast. After they had eaten all their things, drink their tea and water; after their little nice chat and a bit relaxing under the sunshade.

 

Back at home, the two men sat in the garden on the wooden terrace.  
John had stretched out his legs and supported himself with his hands.  
Sherlock sat next to him, he turned his head to John.  
“May I asked a question?”  
“Always, love.” John smiled up to him.  
“You were out on dates... or evenings with women... have you... dated men as well? I mean after we met.”

John sat up a bit and shook his head.  
“No,... no, not really. I have met women to have some female company, making friends, nothing more. They all knew that; not that I’m gay... but that it was nothing more than a nice evening among friends. You spoiled it very often, now I know why... because you were afraid that I meet a lovely woman, move out and leave you behind like all the other people.”  
Sherlock bit his lower lip and nodded.  
“True.” He stated.

John smiled.  
“It wouldn’t have happened. For a start... I’m not even interested in women, not the slightest, at least not in this way and for another thing, I was and I’m in love with you, and if I wouldn’t be in love with you... I would never leave a friend behind, just because of a relationship.”  
“So you never dated a man since we met?”  
“I never dated... but I saw men. Not often, because you often spoiled my evenings. Sometimes I met a man after an evening with a woman. After an evening with Sarah for example. I haven’t dated any of these guys... it was just sex.”

Sherlock watched him.  
“Sex... you have had sex with a few men since we met?”  
“Yeah,... don’t get it the wrong way Sherlock, please! I... I really like sex, I really love to have it, because it’s great, it’s just great. And... you... you aroused me Sherlock, I just needed to get rid of some sexual tension. If I’m honest,... it were always men, who looked like you...” John mumbled in the end.  
“Like... like me?”  
“Yeah,... tall, slender, dark hair, a bit curly, bright eyes... deep voice. It was like a fantasy during masturbation,... I imagined that it would be you,... who gave me that.”

Sherlock watched him. He had not one sexual experience. Sex didn’t alarm him much, but it makes him really nervous.  
“Gave you what... ?” He asked.  
John flushed and looked at him.  
“Do you really want to know all that? It was just sex Sherlock... that... that changed nothing about my love to you,... I have the feeling you’re thinking that, and I didn’t like that. I don’t want to ruin my chance... to be more than a friend one day. I need you too badly, as more than just a friend, hun.” John murmured.

Sherlock has a racing heart, a really fast racing heart. It was strange to hear that John was in love with him, but has sex with other people. He didn't understand that. Maybe he would understand that, if he would know what it means to have sex, how it feels and if it is really that important. However, that John needed him, of all people, let is stomach tingle wildly.  
“I... I just want to know... and understand... “  
John sighed and took a deep breath.  
“Gave me... a handjob, a blowjob, a fuck. It... it was just sex, nothing that means anything to me. I couldn’t have it from you, so I searched for someone, who looked like you as much as possible... or imagined sex with you, during a wank.”

John looked to Sherlock, he felt bad, as if he has cheated Sherlock. He scratched his neck, and so did Sherlock.  
“Have you done that, since I’m here?” Sherlock asked.  
John flushed and looked away.  
“First night. You were in my bedroom, very close... with just your boxer briefs. It aroused me very much and I couldn’t keep my hands above the blanket. I... I thought it would be you, who gave me these lovely caresses.” John mumbled.  
He turned his head again to Sherlock.  
They looked each other in the eyes and Sherlock wanted to say something, but John raised his hands.

“Please, Sherlock... please leave it like this. I know you have not a single experience with that. It’s not all about sex, but when you’re in love with someone; you want to be kissed, hugged, caressed, touched by this person. You want to feel that person, as close as possible, as often as possible. That included sex; you get aroused by this person... and when you can’t get those things from this person, you need to get it from someone else. I feel bad, to talk with you about that, because you are the person I’m in love with and it feels like I have cheated on you. You have big trust issues... and I don’t want that you think, that you can’t trust my love, because of that. I really love you Sherlock. I really do, and you are the only person I want to live with and to share that. You are the man, I want to kiss, to hug, to cuddle, snuggle, caress, care, comfort, to make love with. You are the only man I want a kiss from, a hug, a cuddle, a snuggle, caresses; I want that you, just you, care for me and comfort me. And I want that you are the man, who makes love with me.” John said and swallowed.

Sherlock had listened, blinked a few times and looked irritated when John stood up.  
“I... just need a time out Sherlock. A few moments just for me.” He bent down and kissed Sherlock’s head with a soft and tender kiss. “Don’t doubt my love for you, sweetheart.” A second breathy kiss, touched Sherlock’s ear, after John had whispered these words warm and gently into it.  
John ran his hand through Sherlock’s hair, looked at him apologetically and went into the house.

Sherlock turned his head around, he was absolutely speechless. He didn’t really understand, why it was so important to have sex with someone else, when you love another person. But maybe it was the same he had done with the drugs. He couldn’t get what he wanted for his head, his mind; so he used something else to get it – drugs.  
He looked down to his arms; he has goose bumps, from Johns kisses, his whisper, his words. It made him feel warm and cozy.  
John loved him, he had said it a few times directly. That he was really much in love, just wants him. Just him.  
And he wanted John, just John at his side. John, who should show him, that it was worthwhile to trust someone, to love someone, to give his heart in his hands.  
He needed to make a step out of his comfort zone and lay his heart into John’s hands, immediately.


	19. When it rains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock are on their way back to Potters Bar - walking through the rain and spending the rest of the evening together.

_Friday, in the evening, Kings Cross, London – Potters Bar_

The train from London with its destination Potter’s Bar rolled slowly into the Kings Cross station. It was shortly after 8 pm, and John and Sherlock boarded the train. 

They had been at Baker Street 221b for cake and tea with Mrs. Hudson this afternoon. It was John's and Mycroft's weekly ritual. This time, also Amanda and Sherlock had been present.  
Sherlock and Mycroft hadn’t fought and Mrs. Hudson had been glad to see them all.  
After some cake, coffee and tea, they had talked with each other and Amanda and Mycroft had said goodbye in the late afternoon, because they had a dinner at a friend’s place.  
Sherlock and John had eaten a little supper with Mrs. Hudson, and had hailed a cab at 7.30 pm to Kings Cross.

John took a seat at the end of the train and Sherlock sat down opposite him.  
John smiled and patted Sherlock’s knee.  
“You were really nice to Myc. It was a lovely afternoon with you and your brother, and Amanda and Mrs. Hudson.”  
“I tried to implement what you, and Mycroft has told me. Great, that you have liked it. And you’re right... it was really nice to see Mrs. Hudson.”  
John smiled, pressed Sherlock’s knee with his hand and leaned back afterwards.  
“Yeah, I really liked it and I guess, your brother as well.” He said with a warm voice.  
“Maybe." Sherlock said. "How often do you visit Mrs. Hudson?” He smiled.  
“Almost every Friday. I mean, sometimes I have appointments in the school or something else, but apart from that, I visit her every Friday. Mostly with Mycroft, sometimes also with Amanda. Every time for cake and tea and sometimes supper. And sometimes I went upstairs to our old flat.”  
Sherlock bowed his head.  
“To do what?”  
“To wallow in memories about my great Consulting Detective.” John smiled and winked.  
Sherlock smiled softly at him, turned his head to the window and watched the landscape.

After almost seventeen minutes a voice came over the loudspeaker.  
“Next stop Potters Bar. All out please, it’s the final destination of this train.”  
The train rolled slower.  
The rain pounded against the window.  
“Oh bloody hell... why has it to rain now?” John swore “We will be totally wet before we’re at home.”  
“It’s just rain, John.” Sherlock said.  
They stood up and walked to the door.  
“No, its heavy rain and a bloody mighty storm, love.” John complained stubborn.  
“We can change at home, John.” Sherlock said. His hand rubbed gently across John’s light blue button-up shirt.  
John enjoyed Sherlock’s gentle touch and it let him calm down a bit. He noticed his own goose bumps on his back, his neck and his arms. He smiled a bit.

They stepped out on the platform and walked to the exit – until now they were walking under the roof of the platform.  
John looked to Sherlock, mustered him and needed to grin.  
“Oooh, I take it back! I don’t care that it is raining.”  
Sherlock looked puzzled to John.  
“Why are you suddenly changing your mind?”  
“It’s because of you... “ John smirked. He pulled at Sherlock’s white button up shirt which hung loosely out of the blue jeans. “I really like your WHITE shirt. Especially when it rains and it get wet and transparent.” John smirked charmingly and winked. “So there is no need to hurry home, honey.” 

Sherlock looked down at himself and then to John again, who seemed to be really excited and satisfied.  
Sherlock flushed and John winked again, and pulled him out in the pouring rain.

The two men were wet to the skin after a few meters.  
Sherlock’s shirt was transparent and one could see his slightly muscly upper body. The chest, the nipples, the slightly dark chest hair, the flat stomach.  
John’s shirt was wet as well, but through the light blue shirt one couldn’t see. He turned to Sherlock and eyed him.  
“You’re staring Dr. Watson.” Sherlock said. The corner of his lips twitched in amusement.  
“I told you, not to be naked in front of me.” John grinned.  
“I’m not naked... ”  
“Almost... I can see your chest and stomach quite well.” John winked.  
“Then just hurry up!” Sherlock flushed again.  
John grinned sweetly and patted Sherlock's back.

It has been just nine minutes from the Potters Bar station to John’s house, but as they entered the house they were soaked to the skin.  
They slipped out of their shoes in the hallway and went upstairs.  
John went into his bedroom and Sherlock into the guest room.  
John slipped out of his trousers, his socks, his boxer shorts and the shirt and so did Sherlock in the room next door.  
They slipped both into a pair of fresh boxer briefs, socks and sweatpants; Sherlock into a hoodie and John into a jumper.  
They met each other in the bathroom.

John hung up his wet clothes as Sherlock came in. He turned his head and eyed Sherlock.  
“Shame. You’re dressed.” John winked charmingly.  
Sherlock smiled softly with red cheeks and came to John.  
“Give me your clothes and sit down, sweetheart.” John said gently.  
Sherlock smiled more and reached John his clothes. He went to the bathtub and sat down on the edge.

John hung up Sherlock’s clothes, took a fresh towel and came to Sherlock. His own hairs weren’t wet anymore, he had dried it with a towel, but they were still a bit damp.  
He stood in front of Sherlock and smiled down to him.  
“May I?” He asked softly.  
Sherlock nodded and in the next moment he felt the towel on top of his head. He closed his eyes as John began to rub his hair gently dry. The rub was soft and tender.  
John stood between Sherlock’s legs, smiled when he heard the enjoyable sigh from Sherlock, and he smiled even more as Sherlock bit his lower lip afterwards. That sigh wasn’t meant to be loud.  
He cupped Sherlock face; the towel lay around the neck and on his cheeks. 

Sherlock opened his eyes, looked up to John, who smiled lovingly. Across Sherlock’s face flitted a tender smile.  
“Thank you.”  
“My pleasure.”  
John pulled the towel away, hung it over the bathtub edge next to Sherlock, and smiled with a little smirk to Sherlock.  
“Your hair is tousled.”  
“It’s your fault, John.” Sherlock smiled.  
“Oh, when that’s the case... I should take care of it.”  
“Yes,... you should do that.” Sherlock murmured in a flirty voice.

John smiled charmingly and licked his lips.  
He raised his hand and ran it through Sherlock’s soft hair, through the slightly curls and the single strands. John liked the feeling of Sherlock's soft hair in his hand and between his fingers.  
Sherlock eyes fluttered shut slowly. His stomach tingled, his heart raced and his knees were a bit weak; he was glad that he was sitting. He tried to suppress a second sigh, but he wasn’t able to do that; he didn’t just sigh, it was more a deep enjoyable purr.  
He bit his lower lip and flushed as much as it was possible.  
John played with the damp, soft strands, stroked them into a proper hairstyle.  
“No need to flush, love.” John murmured softly. “Your hair isn’t tousled anymore. How about the sofa and a bit of telly, before bedtime?” He asked in a low voice.  
Sherlock opened his eyes not before John has taken his hand away. He looked up and nodded.

John smiled and stepped aside, so that Sherlock was able to stand up.  
They smiled at each other before they left the bathroom and went downstairs to the living area.

While John switched on the telly, Sherlock sat down in the armchair.  
When John turned around, he bowed his head, closed the distance between him and Sherlock, and reached his hand down to him.  
“Come with me on the sofa, please.” John begged a bit.  
Sherlock took a breath and laid his hand into John’s, who pulled him up with a smile. He led him to the sofa.  
They sat down slowly and made themselves comfortable; to be more precise, Sherlock slouched on the sofa, his feet lay on the coffee table.  
John zapped to the telly program and stopped at a crime series, who just had started.  
He turned his head to Sherlock.  
“Don’t spoil it, you mad genius.” John smiled lovely.  
“I will try it, tiny mind.” Sherlock smiled flirtatious.

John nudged Sherlock's upper arm, but smiled and nodded happily; he put the remote control on the coffee table, and leaned back next to Sherlock.  
“May I... lean against you... to feel your heartbeat, and that you are alive?” John asked boldly.  
Sherlock turned his head to John, eyed him.

Being brave and cuddle with John?  
Or...  
Being a coward and build up the almost destroyed walls around his heart again?

He took a breath.  
Being brave. Cuddling with John Watson. Feeling his body. Destroying another layer of his wall for John. – That was his choice.  
He nodded.

A happy smile flitted across John’s face and he leaned himself against Sherlock. His head rested on Sherlock’s chest, one arm under Sherlock’s back, the other across the belly. He snuggled against Sherlock, could hear his and Sherlock’s fast heartbeat.  
And as he felt Sherlock’s arm around his shoulders, he snuggled even closer and smiled widely.  
Then he heard that lovely deep voice; that voice was music to his ears.  
“It’s a lie.” Sherlock stated with a smile.  
“True. It was a lie and a petty excuse. I just wanted to cuddle with you.”  
“Obviously.” Sherlock smirked a bit.  
“Mad handsome genius.” John murmured with a big smile. “I’m not regretting that lie and excuse, if I’m honest, Mr. Holmes.”  
“Tiny litte mind." Sherlock mumbled with a big smile as well. "I’m glad you have lied and made a feeble excuse, but I would have said yes anyway, if I am honest, Dr. Watson.” Sherlock smiled.  
“Please don’t stop flirting with me, Sherlock Holmes.”  
“I wouldn’t dare to deny a single wish that comes from you... and I couldn’t refuse you anything, John Watson.”  
John smiled happily and widely; snuggled even closer to Sherlock.

 

There was silence between the two men, the only thing one could hear, was the telly.  
John cuddled with Sherlock, whose heart had calmed down. Instead of his racing heart, he has now a tingling stomach. He enjoyed the cuddling, it felt good and safe and comfortable. His arm was still lying around John’s shoulder to keep him in place. He had thought about caressing John’s upper arm with his fingertips, but until now he couldn’t bring up the courage to do it.

“How... would you cuddle with a boyfriend?” Sherlock asked during the commercials.  
“Exactly like that.” John murmured.  
His head still rested on Sherlock’s chest, to be exact, his cheek snuggle against his chest. His right arm lay under Sherlock's back and the other on its belly. Until now, he had resisted the urge to run his hand under Sherlock’s hoodie to caress the soft skin of his belly.  
“Really?”  
“Possibly, I would do something else... more intimate. But that right now would be one version of cuddling with my boyfriend.”  
“What... what would be the more intimate version?"  
“Do you want me to tell or show you?”  
“Sec... second one... maybe...” Sherlock stuttered hoarsely, not sure if it was a good idea.

John smiled and ran his hand down to the seam of the hoodie. The hand slipped slowly and carefully under the dark sweater.  
Sherlock gasped for air.  
His heart was racing like mad and he knows John would feel and hear it. However, it was great, it felt amazing; John’s warm and soft hand on his bare skin.  
“Calm down, love.” John said gently. “Do you want me to stop?”  
“No!” Sherlock said frantically.  
And as John moved his fingers tenderly across his bare skin of his belly, goose bumps spread across his whole body and he shivered appreciatively.  
John smiled as he felt Sherlock’s goose bumps and its shiver.

Sherlock closed his eyes, the telly and the crime series were forgotten. He knew who it was anyway.  
The cuddling and John’s caresses were much better and he didn’t want that John stopped that. Not in a few moments, not in an hour, not tomorrow and even less in the next sixty years.  
He didn’t want to imagine the emptiness John would leave behind, if he himself wouldn’t get a move on. John is waiting for him since a really long time now, maybe some day he didn’t want to wait any longer. He couldn’t risk that.  
It was time to make a huge step out of his comfort zone, to make that zone bigger, to connect that zone with John’s.

He swallowed and opened his eyes.  
“John... ?” Sherlock murmured huskily.  
“Yes, Sherlock?”  
“Could, could you just stop that for a moment?”  
“Of course. I didn’t want that you feel uncomfortable. Do you want me to stop the cuddling as well?”  
“Yes... please.” Sherlock mumbled.  
John broke slowly apart and sat up. He looked at Sherlock and bowed his head.  
“I’m sorry Sherlock. I didn’t want to do that. Just tell me when something is too much, like the cuddling, or caresses or... the pet names.” John said gently.

Sherlock looked at him and shook is head.  
“No... no... I... that was all very nice, I... I liked it, all of it. I just wanted to ask you something.” He mumbled, almost not to understand.  
John bowed his head and waited for Sherlock’s question.

“Would... could... I mean... can you please show me what it feels like to be loved?” He swallowed. “What it feels like to be kissed by a person, one really likes? And what it feels like... to be the partner of someone. Could you show me that, John?”  
John’s mouth hung open in amazement.  
“I... I want to lay my heart and trust in your hands... John.” Sherlock muttered.  
John closed his mouth and opened it a few times. He was speechless and his heart was racing.  
“Did I do something wrong?”

John shook his head.  
“No! Jesus, no, you didn’t! I... wow... Christ, you... you asked me to... to be your boyfriend? You want to try it? A... a relationship?”  
Sherlock’s heart was pounding as much as John’s.  
“That’s... what I wanted to say.”

John took a deep breath. His eyes beamed brightly; a brightly blue, it sparkled. A big happy smile flitted across his face.  
“I would love to! I would love to show you, how much I love you and how great it can be to love someone. And I would love to show you, that love work for you, Sherlock.”  
“Can you promise me... to take care of me?”  
“I will take care of you, on every single day and in every single point in that relationship.” John beamed.  
Sherlock looked into John’s eyes, he needed to smile as he saw John’s beaming eyes and smile.  
John looked at him, bit his lower lip.  
“I need to kiss you Sherlock. May I? May I give you... your first kiss?” John asked softly.  
Sherlock nodded slowly and bravely. He was nervous as hell.

There was a moment of silence.  
The focus laid on each other, nothing else mattered.  
John broke the eye contact and looked to Sherlock’s lip. He licked his lips, looked into Sherlock’s eyes again. His hand cupped Sherlock’s cheek and his thumb caressed gently that sharp cheekbone. He bent down slowly, shut his eyes slowly and laid his lips slowly on Sherlock’s soft lips.  
The kiss was just a breath; tenderly, carefully and slowly.  
Sherlock didn’t kiss him back, he has forgotten how to breath.  
It was overwhelming.  
He gasped for air.

John broke a bit apart, his hand still lay on Sherlock’s cheek, and he could still feel Sherlock’s lips on his own.  
“May I kiss you again?” He asked softly.  
“Please. Please. Yes,... please.” Sherlock begged.  
John smiled, closed the distance and laid his lips again on Sherlock’s. This time, Sherlock kissed John back a bit.  
Insecure, softly, carefully. Carefully and softly as John kissed him.  
He sighed a bit and could feel his weak knees, the racing heart and his tingling stomach. His head was switched off.

John broke slowly apart again. His thumb caressed across Sherlock’s lips, who breathed frantically.  
He smiled at him, let his thumb caress over Sherlock’s lips again.  
“May I kiss you again? You know... the best things come in threes, love.” He smiled charmingly.  
“God... yes, please!”

John smiled and bent down again.  
Their lips met each other again. And this time, Sherlock kissed him back properly.  
Their kiss was slowly, carefully, softly and lovingly. There was no rush, no hurry; it was just a tender first properly kiss.  
A hand found their way in John’s hair at the neck.  
Sherlock couldn’t hold back his purr; he purred into to kiss and flushed, his heart pounded like mad, freaked almost out. However, he calmed a bit down as he heard John’s enjoyable sigh.  
They broke slowly apart.

John kissed Sherlock’s flushed cheek.  
“Did you like your first kiss?” John smiled.  
“Don’t dare to stop kissing me this night.” Sherlock said with flushed cheeks.  
“I took this as a yes.” John smiled charmingly. “And... I wouldn’t dare to deny a single wish that comes from you... and I couldn’t refuse you anything, sweetheart.” John winked and repeated Sherlock’s sentence from an hour ago.  
Sherlock smiled widely.

It was a promise, and John would keep it.


	20. Two men and one bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock enjoy the rest of the evening and in the end John has a question about going to bed.

_Friday, late at night, Potter’s Bar_

The television was still running; another crime series in the meantime. However the television was totally forgotten, and to say it accurately, the program wasn’t important at the moment, there was something else, which was more exciting, thrilling and breathtaking.  
Kissing Sherlock - from John’s point of view.  
Kissing John, or rather to be kissed by John – from Sherlock’s point of view.

The two men, John and Sherlock, were sitting on the edge of the sofa, facing each other, their bodies were slightly turned around to the other man.  
John's right hand has cupped Sherlock’s chin, the left hand lay on Sherlock’s nape. The Consulting Detective has cupped John’s face, with his long and slender fingers.  
Their lips moved together in a loving and tender rhythm. John’s hand ran into Sherlock’s soft hair, he sighed into their kiss, slipped closer to Sherlock. He has butterflies in his stomach since their first small kiss and his heart was racing; nothing else mattered, just Sherlock’s soft lips and his taste. He had imagined kisses with Sherlock almost every day, but these fantasies were nothing in context to the real kissing. His lips felt extraordinary.

Their lips moved apart, their eyes opened, John’s hand slid down to Sherlock's chest and he leaned his forehead against Sherlock’s.  
John smiled widely, his eyes shone bright and happy.  
Sherlock looked him in the eyes and one could read so much different emotions in them – happiness, liking, nervousness, trust, self-consciousness.

John stroked across Sherlock’s chest.  
“Everything alright with you, love?” John asked gently.  
“Don’t know... it’s great and I really like it... but it is a bit nerve racking.” Sherlock confessed.  
“It’s normal, honey. It’s your first time you’re kissing someone and get kissed. What do you think how nervous I was. It’s something really intimate and with that, it’s okay to be nervous and insecure.” John smiled cheerily.  
“Am I doing it right?” Sherlock asked.  
John kissed his nose and moved apart to look properly at Sherlock.  
“You’re a good kisser, a really good one... just a bit shy, but that’s okay, no need to rush.”

Sherlock flushed and stroked with his thumb over John’s lips, and John lowered his sight to Sherlock’s lips.  
“Your lips are swollen, red and rough.” Sherlock mumbled.  
“Yeah... because of your beard, you handsome man. But I really like it.” John winked and kissed Sherlock’s thumb. “Your lips are swollen as well. We have kissed a lot, we're just sitting here and snog since... I don’t know, since a long time.” John smiled.  
“Is there a time limit?” Sherlock asked with a smile.  
“No.” John beamed.  
“Then... you should go on with kissing me.”  
“With the greatest of pleasure.” John smiled charmingly. His hand stroked across Sherlock’s chest again. “May I kiss you more intimate? Or would that be too much for you. I don’t want that you feel uncomfortable.”

Sherlock bit his lower lip, thinking.  
The kisses they had shared in the last hour were already overwhelming, but he didn’t feel uncomfortable. He was curious, what a more intimate kiss would feel like. He nodded.

John smiled; he moved closer, his hand stroked gently upwards to Sherlock’s cheek and he closed his eyes, as well as Sherlock.  
John pressed his lips lovingly on Sherlock’s. He sucked gently at Sherlock’s lips, whose hands slid down to John’s jumper and crawled into it. There was a sigh from Sherlock and John knew he got flushed.  
John’s hand lay on Sherlock’s cheek, the other ran into its hair, and his teeth bit Sherlock softly into his lips. The noise Sherlock made was almost a moan. John smiled into the kiss, he parted his lips, licked with his tongue across Sherlock’s lower lip. And Sherlock did automatically the right thing, he parted his lips too.  
He crawled his hands more into John’s jumper as he felt its tongue in his mouth, and he made a noise between a purr and a moan. He flushed again, he wasn’t used to make such noises. His head buzzed and stopped working as his and John’s tongue met.  
That little handsome blogger, army doctor, author and teacher kissed him tenderly with his tongue and the only thing Sherlock could do, was doing the same.

Their tongues danced with each other; tenderly and gently. They explored each other, tasted each other and felt each other.  
Sherlock’s heart freaked out and so did his stomach; the butterflies were flying around like made. His whole body tingled. He felt John’s hand in his hair, heard him sigh and purr. Goose bumps spread across his body.  
It was a bit awkward at the first moment and he was a bit clumsy with that sort of kiss, but John was patient, and soon he was able to kiss him like it was meant to be.  
The kiss was loveable, with no hurry or passion, just lovingly, tenderly and slow – an exploration.  
And as soon as Sherlock got to know how to kiss John back in that way, he heard more than just a sigh and purr from John.  
He heard a deep moan and felt John’s hand crawling into his hair.

When they broke apart, the two men gasped for air.  
John’s hands wandered to Sherlock’s back.  
“Jesus... it’s great with you. I have waited such a long time for that, to kiss you like that. To be honest, to just kiss you or hug you... even just a small touch from you.” John murmured. He kissed Sherlock’s cheek and smiled at him. “Just for the record Mr. Holmes, you’re not longer on sale, and you never will again.” John winked.

“I can’t understand, why a person like you... want to have someone like me.” Sherlock said.  
“No,... I can’t understand why you choose me.” John smiled.  
“Oh come on John, you’re smart, handsome, loyal, funny, caring... trustworthy.” Sherlock mumbled.  
“So, it’s the same with you, love. You’re smart and clever, a genius; you’re fucking sexy and handsome; you’re funny... and you’re also a very caring person, otherwise you had chosen your own life, instead of risking your life three years for other people. And you’re loyal as well, if you find someone, who is worth your trust. You’re extraordinary... and I’m glad, that I’m the one, who is allowed to show you love, trust and a romantic relationship.” He smiled and ran his hands across Sherlock’s back. 

Sherlock swallowed; it was good to hear those words from John. It had been a good decision to make a step out of his comfort zone. It was a new situation and he needed to become familiar with it, but then it would be probably the best thing in his life.

John kissed Sherlock’s forehead and nudged its nose gently.  
“Love, may I take you to bed?” John asked with a warm voice.  
Sherlock looked at him, his eyes went big and he looked insecure and nervous.  
What was John meaning with that question?  
Taking him to bed for sleeping next to each other?  
Taking him to bed for sex?  
Was it just sex?  
Could he handle just a sex affair?  
Was he ready for sex?

He searched in his head for answers, frantically.  
However, his thoughts were interrupted by two warm and small hands, which took his own hands. Then he felt a soft kiss on his right hand, after that a soft kiss on his left hand. Shortly after the two kisses, he heard John’s warm and loving voice.  
“Calm down, sweetheart. Calm down.” Again two kisses on his hands. “I just want to go to bed with you, sleeping next to you. Nothing more, just sleeping. I promise. It will nothing happen, what you don’t want to happen. I know you haven’t had sex or anything like that. You set the pace, love. You... not me. I’m waiting for you as long as you want me to wait. Just sleeping tonight, love.” John murmured lovingly and kissed Sherlock’s hands again.

Sherlock took a deep breath.  
“Okay... okay. Then... yes, yes, you can take me to bed.” Sherlock murmured nervously.  
“Great.” John smiled. He bent forward and kissed Sherlock’s temple. After that, John stood up and reached his hand down to Sherlock. “Come on, love. I’m tired, let’s go to bed.”  
Sherlock laid his hand in John’s, who helped him up.

 

John didn’t take off his hand, switched off the television with one hand and led Sherlock upstairs. He didn’t stop at the guest room door, he took Sherlock with him to his bedroom, led him inside and to his bed.  
John took off his hand, switched on the bedside lamp and looked up to Sherlock.  
They smiled at each other, and John let his hand caress across Sherlock’s cheek.  
“It’s too warm... to sleep with a jumper and a sweatpants, so I will take them off. You... can do the same, if you want. I will keep my hands to myself. And should I get aroused, just ignore it, love.” John said charmingly. He kissed Sherlock’s collarbone through the hoodie and stepped back.

Sherlock watched him and nodded. He looked around, was a bit helpless.  
“Which... side do you prefer?” He asked.  
“I don't care, honey.” John smiled and took off his jumper.  
Sherlock nodded and looked at John again. His mouth was watering.  
A slight muscly chest, grey chest hair, no hair on his little belly, but one could see that John likes food. There were a few pounds – for extra comfort. The scar made look him brave and extraordinary, told so much history.  
Sherlock swallowed and watched John, who take off his sweatpants.

John just smiled widely at Sherlock, nudged its belly.  
“Hey... genius, don’t daydream and don’t visit your mind palace.” He kissed Sherlock’s cheek. “You don’t have to take off your clothes... ” He stroked over Sherlock’s upper arm and went to bed. “But it would be nice, if you would come to bed.”

Sherlock took a breath and turned around to John, who was already lying in bed, under the blanket. He smiled up to Sherlock and reached his hand out.  
Sherlock scratched the back of his head, calmed down a bit and took off his hoodie and the sweatpants.  
John lifted the blanket with a soft smile, and Sherlock scrambled into the bed and under the blanket.

“I hope you can sleep tonight, honey. If it is too much and you are uncomfortable or overwhelmed, and too nervous, then feel free to leave my bed. I won’t be upset or disappointed.” John smiled.  
“I... I think it’s okay. I think... I will fall asleep next to you.”  
John raised his hand and ran his fingers through Sherlock’s hair.

Sherlock closed his eyes, he enjoyed it very much. It was great and amazing to feel John’s hand in his hair.  
John yawned, he bent forward and kissed Sherlocks temple, the forehead, the nose, his cheek and his mouth.  
“I’m tired and exhausted, honey... sleep well, yeah?” He murmured softly and lay his head down comfortably. “I’m glad that you’re here, so that I can fall asleep next to you... to know you will be here when I’m waking up... here or in the guest room, somewhere in that house. And I’m glad that I can kiss you in the morning.” He mumbled sleepily with closed eyes.

Sherlock smiled shyly.  
“Sleep well... John.” He muttered.  
“Don’t stare at me the whole night, Mr. Holmes; get some sleep. I’m not leaving you.” John murmured half asleep.  
Sherlock flushed, but he didn’t close his eyes. He eyed John; the soft and relaxed expression on his face, that little confident smile, the hair, which hung loosely in his face.  
“Love you...” John murmured in a warm voice, without any expectations.  
He just smiled even more, as if he would have seen Sherlocks happy smile.

There was silence, Sherlock hadn’t been able to say it back. Not because he didn’t love him. It was just too unfamiliar to say something like that, and he didn’t trust his own voice. Just lying with John almost naked under a blanket was enough for his heart, it freaked out just by that; possibly he would get a heart attack while saying ‘I love you too, John Watson’.  
He just eyed him; his chest, which raised and sank slowly. He seemed to be asleep. No. He was sure, absolutely sure, that John was asleep. So it would be safe, to cuddle against that handsome man and to pretend that John had slipped closer, in the morning. 

Sherlock eyed him again. Yep, deep down in his dreams, Sherlock thought.  
He slipped closer, snuggled his body against John’s, his face into John’s crook of the neck, one leg between John’s and one arm around him. He took a deep breath of John’s scent and hummed deeply contented; it was a bit of a deep and long purr.  
It was breathtaking to feel John’s bare, warm skin on his own. It was a sensation, a really good one.

Oh shit, that’s embarrassing and awkward; Sherlock thought.  
He failed again with his deduction about John. That man wasn’t asleep; he could literally see him smile widely. And he felt John’s kiss on top of his head and the arm, which John laid around his shoulder.  
He wanted to pull away, but John kept him tight in his gentle, cuddling hug and pressed him a second sleepily kiss on his hair.  
“Hmm.” He hummed. “Cuddly handsome genius, stay.” He laid his cheek on top of Sherlock’s head.  
John intertwined their legs and pulled Sherlock into a loving, cuddling hug with both arms.

Sherlock’s heart raced, he didn’t dare to say a word.  
“No need to worry, love. It’s perfect. You don’t have to cuddle secretly with me. I love cuddling, could do it all day.” He purred into Sherlock’s hair. 

Sherlock just snuggled closer.  
He felt safe and loved.  
He felt the warm and happy feeling in his body.  
He felt, that he could fall asleep like this, any second.

And actually, he fell asleep and he was the first one.


	21. A sleep in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After their first night in the same bed, John and Sherlock have a sleep in.

_Saturday morning_

It was silent. One could hear nothing in the whole house in Hertfordshire, Potters Bar, Parkfield View. Two men just lying in bed and were asleep, at least, John was asleep. Sherlock has been awake for a few minutes, had found himself cuddled and snuggled in the arms of John Watson, as if his life would depend on that handsome man and the cuddling.   
He has rolled over – carefully. He didn’t want to wake him up.  
So, Sherlock lay on his back, next to John, staring at the ceiling.  
For a moment he had felt embarrassed last night, that he had cuddled this much, but after John’s hug and his lovely words, he had just felt pure happiness. And he still felt it.   
He turned his head to John and smiled. 

The other man was still asleep, with a soft and relaxed expression on his face and tousled grey hair. Sherlock watched him and he notice deep down in his heart that he could do that all day, and a huge hope that he would be able to wake up next to this man every morning.

John sighed in his sleep - disappointed, as if he would feel, that something was missing. He slipped closer, snuggled his face against Sherlock’s upper arm, laid his right arm across Sherlock’s belly and his right leg across Sherlock’s legs. John sighed again, this time confident.  
Sherlock’s heart set up a higher pace. He lifted his hand slowly and lay it above John’s hand on his belly.   
John hummed and turned his hand around, intertwined their hands. He snuggled a bit closer, still asleep, or at least, he was half asleep.

A kiss on John’s head, let his heart beat a few tacts faster, let him wake up. Sherlock has kissed him. He has kissed him, and it was the first kiss that came just from Sherlock; a kiss, which wasn’t initiated by John, by himself – it was Sherlock, who has kissed him willingly.   
John hummed again, purred and sighed and kissed Sherlock’s upper arm, with a small, sleepy kiss. His thumb caressed Sherlock’s back of the hand.  
“You... you’re already awake.” Sherlock murmured.  
“Not really.” John mumbled sleepily. “I felt your kiss. It was nice... could you do that again?” He murmured against the upper arm of Sherlock.

Sherlock took a deep breath and swallowed. He bent his head down again and pressed a second soft kiss on John’s hair, who purred and sighed again.   
“Again... ?!” John mumbled.  
Sherlock smiled, kissed John’s head again. It wasn’t as difficult as his head and heart thought it would be.   
And John hummed happily.  
“Again!”  
“It would be the fourth time... “ Sherlock said softly.  
“Yeah... you know the old saw... the best things come in fourths.” John lied.  
“That’s bullshit, John.” Sherlock grinned.  
“Just shut up and kiss me.” John smirked softly.

Sherlock grinned gently and pressed a last kiss on John’s head.  
“Do you think you could show me your good morning kiss?” Sherlock asked.  
John smiled and stopped his cuddling. He lifted his head and his body; and supported himself on his elbow. He smiled with tired eyes.  
“Which one... a soft one, a hard one or a closed mouth kiss or open mouth kiss,... maybe a french one... and when that... do you prefer a tender one, a passionate one or a hot one... “ John smiled.

Sherlock bit his lower lip.  
“Exactly in that order.”  
John smiled widely. He was still holding hands with Sherlock and bent down for the first kiss. A slowly and soft kiss on Sherlock’s lips.  
Sherlock has closed his eyes, and waited for the next kiss.   
John pressed a kiss a bit harder and more desperately on Sherlock’s lips. After that a normal loving kiss with a closed mouth. Sherlock returned him.  
John smiled, parted his lips, and gave him the next loving kiss, and Sherlock returned again – also with parted lips.   
John moved away, smiled happily.

He bent down to Sherlock again, with slightly parted lips. He cupped Sherlock’s lips, kissed him gently and tenderly – Sherlock returned. John squeezed Sherlock’s hand and licked with his tongue across Sherlock’s lower lip. Sherlock parted his lips more; he was excited. The french kiss yesterday was amazing and he wanted to feel it again. He sighed into the kiss as their tongues met, they explored each other tenderly, danced with each other softly.   
John removed his hand, made a flowing movement and at the next moment he sat on Sherlock’s lap under the blanket. He bent down, didn’t move away his lips and tongue from Sherlock. His kiss become a bit more passionate.   
Huge, slender hands stroked across his bare back, softly upwards, ran into his hair and they crawled as John’s kiss became passionate and hungry.  
John heard and felt the deep moan of Sherlock.   
This time Sherlock didn’t flush; John moaned into kisses as well, so it can’t be freaky, Sherlock thought.   
Shortly after that, he heard and felt John’s moan – deep and hungry.  
John’s kiss became hot, really hot; there was lip sucking, lip biting, licking over Sherlock’s tongue and into his mouth. And Sherlock’s head buzzed, was out of order.  
Their tongues weren’t dancing with each other anymore, they were fighting, hot and wet.  
John moaned into the kiss as well as Sherlock, who crawled his hands into John's hair.  
John rubbed his half hard cock across Sherlock’s crotch.

Sherlock needed to break apart.   
He moaned deeply and long, as he felt John’s almost hard cock on his crotch.  
He gasped for air.

John stopped the rubbing.  
“I’m sorry... I lost it. I couldn’t resist.” He said softly and sat up.  
Sherlock looked at him, his hand ran out of John’s hair down to its back.  
“No... um, it was really nice... the kisses and that other thing... “ Sherlock murmured.  
“Do you want me to do that again?”  
“One more time... it’s a bit too overwhelming at the moment.”  
John nodded and slid with his cock over Sherlock’s. Just the fabric of the boxer briefs was between their cocks.  
Sherlock closed his eyes and moaned softly.   
John’s eyes fluttered shut and he moaned as well. Oh, sweet Jesus, he needed a bit more self control; John thought.  
He stopped it again.

Both men opened their eyes, looked at each other.  
“Shall I... “ John pointed next to Sherlock.  
“You... you can stay.”  
John smiled softly.  
“May I touch you, love?” John murmured.   
“If I can say stop... “ Sherlock mumbled.  
“You can... every time.” John smiled.

Sherlock smiled too, and closed his eyes, as John’s hand ran through his hair. The hand stroked down to his cheek, his neck, softly over his collarbones, across his chest and his abdomen. He sighed and purred.  
It felt great and he was wide away from saying stop.  
Then he just felt John’s fingertips. They caressed him with just a breath, over his belly, his sides, his chest, up to his collarbones, across his shoulders and his neck.  
He sighed deeper, felt the goose bumps all over his body. It tingled everywhere, nice and warm.  
His eyes were still closed, he laid himself into John’s hands and it was amazing to feel John’s fingers on his naked upper body.

“Good morning by the way, sweetheart.” He nudged Sherlock’s nose with his own. “Have you slept well?”  
“Morning...” Sherlock purred and stole a little kiss from John, before he sat up again. He could literally see John smile. “Night was great... how was yours?” He mumbled.  
John smiled gently and just his forefinger caressed across Sherlock’s neck, down over his shoulder and collarbone.  
“Perfect. There was someone who cuddled with me the whole night.” John’s forefinger drew little circles on Sherlock’s chest. “It was a really handsome bloke. A tall one... slender; dark, short hair, a bit curly, soft;... changing eye colour; beard and sharp cheekbones; strange and soft, beautiful lips and a warm body... do you know him?” John asked.  
“Never heard of such a person.” Sherlock grinned.   
John grinned across his whole face.  
His forefinger caressed over Sherlocks belly, across every millimeter.  
“It’s a shame. You would fall in love with him, if you would see him.”  
“I don’t want to fall in love with that guy... I’m... I’m in love with someone else.” He murmured in a low voice.

They could almost hear the heartbeat from the other person.  
“You are?... A... bloke?” John played along.  
Sherlocks eyes stayed closed.  
“Yes, a bloke. Handsome, you can’t imagine how much. And he’s funny; he makes me smile and laugh, it’s infectious; and he is loyal and patient and he cares so much. Then he can be an absolute gentleman, but I like it also when he’s upset, it’s funny... he can get really angry and grumpy, but apologize at the same moment. He is a really good person,... talented as a soldier, a doctor, as an author and I think he is a really good teacher too. Um, he’s smart and clever. And he looks really good. I... I love his hair, it’s a bit longer and greyer, almost grey, but it suits him very much. I love his eyes, they’re changing their colour as well, bright blue, blue, dark blue, light brown, brown. Um, and his body - really nice; tanned, muscly chest... bit of a belly from his love for food. He’s smaller than me... bit like the Hobbit, he had described - but it’s perfect.”

John’s heart was pounding like mad, his stomach tingled. His head was buzzing; he smiled happily, widely and brightly, and there was a little smirk when Sherlock compared him to the Hobbit. Sherlock hadn’t said ‘I love you’ and all these other things directly to him. But he knew, he was the person Sherlock talked about, and if he needed that little game to tell him that he was in love with him and why, then John was okay with it.   
It was a perfect declaration of love.

John cupped Sherlock’s face with two hands. The man beneath him opened his eyes.  
“I love you too, Sherlock.” John said in his warm, loving voice.


	22. A bit too hot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock are still lying in John's bed. It gets a bit too hot in the end.  
> And a little gift makes Sherlock almost cry.

_Saturday_

John and Sherlock were still lying in bed, to be accurate, Sherlock was lying in bed and John sat on its lap, the blanket hung across his shoulders.   
Sherlock’s hand lay on John’s back; he looked up to John, who ran his fingers through is hair, rubbed his hand across his eyes, across his face and yawned.  
“Still tired... “ Sherlock said in a soft voice.  
“Yeah, I was too wired last night, as you cuddled with me. You fell asleep, shortly after you lay in my arms; but I was still awake for nearly an hour. It was too great, to have you in my arms, to have you this close... to have you back, I needed to enjoy it.” John smiled.

Sherlock eyed him.  
“But it was okay... that I cuddled with you... like this?”  
“Oh yeah, it was really welcome.” John smiled widely. “I loved it. I love cuddling. Just the last few weeks, were a bit exhausting and nerve racking and I don’t know how to describe. I mean... you were back out of nowhere, then one of my closest friends told me he lied to me and I punched him; my luck that he’s my friend, who knows what had happened to me if not and I punched a person from the government.” He smirked a bit. “Then... we met again. And I wanted to be angry, but it didn’t work... because I just love you, you mad man... and the happiness to have you back was bigger than my anger; I was just relieved. And that’s your luck, otherwise I had punched you too.” He nudged Sherlock’s shoulder with his fist. “Well, and the conversations... about your past and my past were a bit touchy and stirring. I just couldn’t sleep, because I finally have what I wanted to have in my life - You to be back, and a man at my side I love, I feel at home and I feel safe. So I needed some time to enjoy it, without sleeping, to be sure, that I’m not dreaming.” John smiled at the end.

Sherlock smiled and bowed his head on the pillow.  
“Mycroft deserved it... and I as well, to be honest; but I’m glad you hadn’t done it. I mean you have already punched me.” Sherlock smirked.  
“You wanted me to!” John smirked as well.  
“Yes,... but not your jostling.” Sherlock grinned and smiled up again, softly and gently. “However,... thanks for not punching me again. I’m really sorry for the last three years. I never wanted to hurt you so much. Maybe now... I will understand why it had hurt you so much... and that it would hurt me as much as it had hurt you, if you wouldn’t be there any longer.” He stroked with his hands across John’s back. “And I’m glad that we have met... and that you become my friend and that you listened to me and my story; and that you opened my eyes. And I can’t express how much sorry I am for what you had experienced in your past. I’m terribly sorry for that... and to be honest, that’s an understatement.” He caressed John’s back upwards. “For me it was the opposite last night... lying in your arms, made me feel loved, at home and safe... it relaxed me so much and filled me with pure happiness, that I fall asleep, immediately. You were the reason I fought this much and didn’t give up. You... John Watson. I wanted to see you again... to come home to you. Wherever it is. I didn’t need Baker Street to feel at home.” 

John’s heart pounded in his chest, because of Sherlocks words and its soft fingers on his back - that lovely caresses.  
“I have forgiven you, honey. I can’t forget that, but that’s not what counts. I have forgiven you, love. You’re back, you’re alive, you look healthier... so it’s in a way fine for me. Just promise me, to never do that again, not like this. You’re allowed to save my life, but I need to know that you’re alive. I promise you... I will kill you on my own, if you die for real. Don’t you dare and die one day before I will die.” John said and closed his eyes. Sherlock caressed his back, and it was just too enjoyable. “The past is the past, right? It’s not our present and it doesn’t have to be our future. Maybe... our pasts had brought us together over a few ways and detours.” John murmured with an enjoyable sigh. “You can sleep every night in my arms, if you want to. Just be there... “

“I will... and you better believe it.” Sherlock smiled.   
“Great, sweetheart... “ John mumbled, eyes closed, enjoying the caresses on his back.  
Sherlock eyed him, as John’s head dropped forward. The chin laid almost on the doctor’s chest.  
“Do you mind... if I touch you... if I touch more than just your back?” Sherlock asked.  
“It would be really welcome. I would like to feel your hands and fingers all over my body... where you feel comfortable with.” John purred.

John was like putty in Sherlock’s hands. He melted away, as soon as Sherlock’s fingertips caressed across his shoulders, to his arms, downwards to the fingertips. He purred and sighed in relish.   
Sherlock eyed John, while he explored its upper body. His fingertips caressed the arms upwards, along the neck, down to John’s chest. His forefinger breathed across John’s scar, carefully and slowly, for several minutes. John sighed again, as Sherlock’s fingertips wandered over his chest.   
Sherlock enjoyed the bare, warm skin under his fingers; he caressed to John’s belly. He liked John’s soft belly.  
He caressed upwards, over John’s chest, the collarbone, the chin, to the left ear, with just the tip of his forefinger.   
John shivered with relish, purred deeper, it was almost a moan. He bent down to Sherlock, supported himself on his palms, next to Sherlock’s head. His eyes fluttered open for a few seconds, to look at Sherlock, with slightly darker eyes. His lips met Sherlock’s lip, and he moaned into their kiss.   
Sherlock’s exploration didn’t stop, his forefinger caressed the outer ear, upwards to the temple; his fingers ran through John’s hair, while they were kissing tenderly.

John was hard again, rubbed his cock at Sherlock’s crotch, as its fingertips caressed along his neck, to his collarbone, downwards, slowly downwards.   
Sherlock reached John’s hard left nipple, his forefinger stroked over it.   
John needed to break the kiss; there was a soft thrust with his hips and a long enjoyable moan.  
“Jesus Sherlock.”  
It was a real effort not to thrust further with his hips, not to rub over Sherlock’s crotch.  
He crawled his hands into the sheet next to Sherlock’s head. It was hard to resist movements with his hips.  
“Too much?” Sherlock asked insecurely.  
“Yes and no.” He said and looked Sherlock in the eyes. “It was awesome; Jesus, your caresses are gorgeous; but I’m hard now.” He said and could barely hold back. He lost almost his self-control. “You’re not ready... for... for some kind of sex, right?” John asked softly.

Sherlock swallowed; he was really nervous. Technically, he wasn’t alarmed by sex; but now, to be directly in that situation, it alarmed him a lot.  
“I... no... I’m... sorry John. I’m too nervous and... and afraid, to go on with that.” He murmured.  
He could feel John’s hard, throbbing cock. He could see the arousal in John’s dilated eyes, in his whole composure.  
“No... you don’t have to be sorry. I told you, you set the pace. It’s okay. I don’t want to force you, love. I’m totally sorry, honey... but I can’t hold back myself. I need to get rid of this. Actually, I wanted to go to the shower with you... but I think, it’s better when I’m showering alone today. Just make yourself comfortable, hun.” John mumbled and stood up. He scratched the back of his head.

Sherlock eyed him and the bulge in John’s boxer briefs was clear to see, also the wet spot.  
“It’s okay.” Sherlock murmured. He knew, what John would do in the shower.  
“I’m sorry, love. And I’m sorry for any noises... “ He ran his hand through his hair. “I’m off to the shower... “ He bent down and kissed lovingly Sherlock’s cheek. “Love you.” He murmured before he left the bedroom.

Sherlock watched him until he was out of sight. He could imagine to have sex with John, to share all that with him, but at the moment it made him a bit too nervous, to be honest it was like panicking. Not to know what to do, what John liked, what not; what he himself would like or not; just the fact that he was almost forty years old and a virgin; and the fact that John wasn’t a virgin; the truth was, that John had a lot of experiences with a lot of men, not in a relationships, but with sex.  
He heard the sound of the shower.   
Would he hear John?

 

John stood under the warm water of the shower, his right palm leaned against the tiles, his left hand found his way to his hard, leaking cock. He closed his eyes and rubbed a few times just across his cock.  
He moaned silently, tried to hold back any loud noises.   
It was almost impossible, as soon as he cupped his erection, the first loud moan escaped his mouth. He leaned his forehead at the tiles and stroked himself.   
He couldn’t hold back the loud moans. It wasn’t possible, with the knowledge he has now; to know what it feels like to cuddle with Sherlock, to kiss him, to sleep next to him, to sit on his lap, to caress him, to get caressed by Sherlock; to know the purrs, sighs, moans and to know how Sherlock’s cock, erected or not felt like.

He imagined Sherlock’s hand, which stroked his erection with a soft pressure upwards, with a hard pressure and a twist downwards to his tip. His thumb, which ran over the glance – breathy and sometimes hard.   
The hand slid down to his balls, cupped them, played with them.  
He wanted to fingering himself a bit, but he couldn’t let go the tiles, he needed some support, because his legs were trembling with pure pleasure.  
The pace sped up, the pressure went higher, the twists more pleasurable, the circling thumb on his glance got more finesse.  
He moaned loudly, sighed and purred, just noises, sometimes dirty words and Sherlock’s name.

“Ohhh, fuck SherlockSherlock. Fuck, that’s great, love.” He moaned loudly at some point.  
He felt Sherlock’s kisses on him, his caresses, he had the feeling he could feel Sherlock’s crotch at his bum.  
His erection was throbbing; leaking a lot of pre come. He was absolutely horny.  
He thrusted in his fist, in Sherlock’s fist – fast and hard.  
He felt the orgasm coming nearer, hit the tiles with his palm with pleasure and relish. Actually, he wanted to feel it longer, but he wasn’t able to hold back any longer.  
He threw his head in his neck and moaned and groaned loudly as he came all over his hand and the tiles.   
His hips stopped, and his hand, Sherlock’s hand stroked him tenderly and slowly through his orgasm.   
He purred and searched some safety at the tiles with his right hand. 

 

Sherlock had heard the loud moans, the groans, the dirty words like Fuck, and he had heard his name. Several times had John almost cried his name – with pleasure and joy. He had heard John screaming, that he’s doing it very well; had heard him moaning that he’s close, so close and that Sherlock should keep doing that.   
Whatever he was doing.  
He heard John’s orgasm, no wonder, he was moaning loudly, his name in combination with fuck – several times.

It was a nice feeling, to know that John imagined them in the shower together, that he talked with him as if he would be there and as if he would be the person who let him made these noises.   
It was nice to hear John like that, not that he was aroused, for that he was just too nervous and too afraid; but he knew, if he would calm down a bit, he would get aroused by these noises and an aroused looking John Watson. 

He scratched his neck and stood up. John would be ready in the bathroom every minute. He went to the guest room and picked up some fresh clothes.  
In the hallway between the guest room and the bathroom, he met John, with just a towel around his hips.  
John flushed and scratched the back of his head. He was aware that Sherlock had heard him. He had cried out his partner’s name, as if nobody else would be in that house, or as if Sherlock had been in the shower with him.  
“I’m... “ He was interrupted by a smiling Sherlock, who cupped his chin with one hand.  
“Don’t.” He smiled lovingly. He bent down to John and kissed his lips. “I’m in the shower now and after that... I would like to have breakfast with you... dar... darling.” It was a murmur against John’s lips and the word darling was just a little whisper.

John’s heart raced, as well as Sherlock’s.  
They looked at each other; Sherlock stole another kiss, smiled and went to the bathroom.  
John turned his head, swallowed and went to the bedroom.

 

While Sherlock was in the bathroom, showering, using the toilet, brushing his teeth and dressing; John dressed, placed a little present in the guest room and went downstairs again.

Sherlock left the bathroom and went to the guest room to pick up some socks. His eyes noticed the little present, immediately.  
The socks were forgotten and he picked up the book, which was lying on the pillow.  
The Hobbit.  
Sherlock smiled widely, stroked over the cover and opened it.  
There was a handwriting.  
John’s handwriting.  
He read it.

 

****

For Sherlock,  
who was a stranger,   
become a colleague, a friend, my best friend, my soulmate  
and  
my partner in life.  
For Sherlock,  
who I have take deeply into my heart.

In love,  
John

 

Sherlock’s heart skipped a beat, he swallowed hard. It almost made him cry; he was close – the eyes were already damp.  
His fingers caressed across the handwritten note.

He cleared his throat and wanted to close the book when he saw the inscription on the really first page.  
It wasn’t handwritten.  
It was printed.  
He hadn’t seen it before. Not one more time. Probably, because he had skipped the first pages. He had always started with the story.

 

**

For my best friend,  
who had kept me alive with his adventures.

J. H. Watson

**

 

It was printed; printed the whole time in that book, in every book and John had sold a lot of books - Not only in the UK.  
That man had dedicated him that book.  
Sherlock gasped for air and his thumb wiped away a single tear, which was rolling down his cheek.

He laid down the book and rushed the stairs down to the living area, through the hallway, into the kitchen.  
John looked up and smiled widely and lovingly at him. He was making tea.  
Sherlock swallowed, closed the distance and wrapped his arms around John. He snuggled his face into John’s hair, pressed his chest against John’s back.  
“Oi.” John hummed in surprise.  
“You’re an incredibly loyal and lovely man, John Watson.” He hummed, into John’s hair. “You’re the mad man, not I... you have dedicated me your book. I... I haven’t seen it before, because I always skipped to the story.”

John laid his hands on Sherlock’s arms.  
“Yeah,... I write that book... my notes, properly as a book - for you.”  
“And the little Hobbit survived his adventures.” Sherlock said softly.   
“Of course he did. And he found companionship... and comes back home stronger than he was before all those adventures.”   
“Just like you.” Sherlock hummed.  
“Just like me.” John hummed back.

Sherlock pressed him closer.  
“I’m the psychotic dragon Smaug.” He smiled.  
“Yes... and no. Yeah,... the dragon is a bit like you. Mad... you know.” John murmured. “But in truth, you’re the wizard. You saved my life, you kept me alive with all your mad adventures, you brought me back to a social life, you healed my limp and trembling hand. In truth... you’re a wizard.” John murmured.

Sherlock swallowed again, he bit his lower lip. He was touched – deeply. By the dedication, the personal dedication and Johns words. Some tears rolled down his cheeks and he said the only logical and truthfully thing that came to his mind – in a warm and gentle voice.  
“I love you!”


	23. The pub

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After they spent the day with each other, John and Sherlock lay on the couch, but not as long as Sherlock think they would do.

_Saturday, late evening and night, Potters Bar_

John and Sherlock had spent the day in Potters Bar, to be more precise, they had spent it in John’s garden, with a little stroll in the fields and some take away in the evening.   
They were now sitting and lying on the sofa, it was already after ten o’clock in the evening and John was lying with his head on Sherlock’s lap, his legs stretched out and he was looking up to Sherlock. He turned around, lay on his side and fiddled at the fabric of Sherlock’s t-shirt.

“Are you tired, love?” John asked with a gentle voice.  
“No, I’m not. Not really. You want to do something.” Sherlock stated.  
John smiled and placed a kiss on Sherlock’s stomach.  
“Exactly, handsome genius.”, John winked at him. 

Sherlock smiled and his hand ran through John’s grey hair. John let out a pleasurable purr, which made Sherlock smile even more.  
“What do you have in mind?”  
“Pub.”, John sat up and beamed at Sherlock.  
“Uuhhg, something outdoors?” Sherlock asked, in the hope of a misunderstanding.  
“Yeah love, outdoors. You know, where trees and plants are growing. Fresh air, other people...” John grinned.  
“I’m not dumb.”

John grinned softly and bent forward to kiss Sherlock’s cheek.  
“I know, I’m just teasing you. Come on, sweetheart... just for a beer or something else. It’s just a little pub, there isn’t much going on. You don’t have to talk to dumb people.” John tried to convince Sherlock. “You just have to talk with your handsome and smart boyfriend.” John smiled charmingly and winked.  
“I can’t see somebody like that.” Sherlock said seriously.   
He wanted to talk, and even if it was such a nonsense, until John let go that Pub idea, or the Pub closed his doors tonight. The problem was he couldn’t hold back his big grin.  
John laughed and punched softly Sherlock’s upper arm.  
“You’re such a prick. Come on get on your feet.”

He stood up and looked down to Sherlock, who sighed.  
“I need to change.”  
John reached his hand out to Sherlock.  
“You don’t have to, hun.”  
“I’m just wearing a t-shirt and a jeans.” He pointed at his white tee and the dark blue jeans.  
"It’s just a pub Sherlock, not the opera.”  
“I can’t talk you out of that Pub idea, right?” He said, and laid already his hand in John’s.  
“No, you can’t.” John grinned softly. He helped him up and pull him closer with his hand. He laid his lips on Sherlock’s and gave him a little, tender peck. “Thank you for coming with me.”  
Sherlock laid his free hand on John’s back.   
“I haven’t had a choice.”  
“Of course, but you decided to come with me, so thank you, hun.” John smiled and kissed Sherlock’s lips again.  
Sherlock closed his eyes and returned John’s gentle kiss.

John smiled into the kiss, squeezed Sherlock’s hand and as they broke apart, he bit him gently and softly into his lower lip.  
After his kiss, he beamed up to Sherlock.   
“Let’s go. I promise you, just a beer or two and then we went home.”  
Sherlock smiled and nodded, and followed John into the hallway, where they put on their shoes.  
John took his wallet and the keys and went out of the door with Sherlock, who pulled the door into the lock.

Although it was after ten o’clock, nearly eleven o’clock, because Sherlock had discussed a while, it was enjoyable warm. It was a lovely summer night and the wind, which tousled through John’s and Sherlock’s hair was very welcome.  
Just like Sherlock, John was wearing dark Jeans and one of his usual button up shirts; the sleeves of that light blue shirt were rolled up to John’s elbows. He tilted his head to the side and looked to Sherlock, while their were walking along the street.  
“Sherlock?”  
His partner turned his head around, looked at him questioningly.  
“John?”  
“May I... hold your hand? May I just act like it is in a relationship. I mean in public.”  
Sherlock swallowed and while he was walking, he looked down to John’s hand.  
“I... I would love to know the full John Watson and what he is like in a relationship - what he likes to do in a relationship. You can hold my hand and all the other things you want to do with me, with us. I will say something, if it’s uncomfortable for me, or if I dislike it. Umm, but... can we just exclude sex for the moment?”  
The first thing John was doing, was taking Sherlock’s hand. He entwined their hands and let his thumb caress across Sherlock’s back of the hand. After that, he beamed up to Sherlock. It felt great and even better as just doing it at home. Of course it did, in this way, he could show, that this handsome and clever man wasn’t available any longer.  
“I’m fine with that Sherlock. Don’t worry. I mean I’ve waited since, if I’m totally honest, the first meeting, for just a kiss. And now I’ve got a lot of kisses from you. I’ve waited to have sex with you as long as for these kisses... now it isn’t just a fantasy, it’s reality, there is a really huge possibility that we will have sex in the next days, or weeks, or months. I’m waiting for you Sherlock. Everyone was as nervous as you’re now. Just give me a hint, when you want to try something... and then I will take care of you.”  
Sherlock smiled and nodded. John’s words calmed him down, at least a bit.

They walked together through the streets until they reached the pub; and John had been right, it was a little pub, with just a little bar and a few bar stools. The rest of the furniture were all sorts of different stools and tables, and armchairs; not one of them looked similar. The pub didn’t even look like a pub, it looked more like a cozy living room.  
Nevertheless, nearly every seat was taken.   
Sherlock wanted to inform John that he had seen two free armchairs with a little round table in between, but John already pulled him exactly to the two armchairs.

“It’s not as bad as I thought it would be.” Sherlock said.  
John grinned and let go his hand, he took a seat in one of the armchairs, Sherlock on the other one.  
“Oh come on, you like it.”  
“Maybe.” Sherlock smiled.  
“Sometimes you’re a bad liar.” John smiled widely.  
“Then you know whether I like this place or not and I don’t have to tell you, that it’s really cozy and homey here, that I don’t care about the other twenty one people in here and that I wouldn’t mind... or that I would love to go to that pub with you more often.” He winked with a lovely smile.  
John chuckled softly.  
“You don’t have to tell me... sometimes my deduction skills are as good as yours.”  
“Maybe I have let you see that.” Sherlock grinned.  
“Of course you have, because I’m really charming and likeable, and you put down your walls for me.” John grinned charmingly.  
“You’re showing off John Watson.” Sherlock smirked. “But I’ve to admit that you are right, with the walls... and that you are really charming and likeable.”  
“Said the man, who is showing off all the time.” John winked and bowed his head. “You’re also very likeable, sweetheart – for me since the beginning.”  
Sherlock smiled lovingly, he wanted to protest, but John shook his head with a gentle and lovely smile.

After a few moments a young woman came to their armchairs and both men ordered a beer. They didn’t have to wait long for the two pints, clinked the glasses and took a sip.  
Sherlock bowed his head, his pint still in his hand. He looked to John and smiled.  
“Would you have ever told me, that you’re in love with me, or at least that you’re gay, if I... hadn’t been away a few years?”  
John shrugged his shoulders.  
“I don’t know. Maybe someday, with a big belly, grey hairs... don’t say it! I know I already have grey hair.” They laughed with each other. “So, maybe with a big belly, much more grey hair, wrinkles.” Sherlock laughed again. “You’re an evil man.” John giggled.  
“The only new thing would be the big belly.” Sherlock giggled.  
John kicked softly against Sherlock’s leg, but giggled himself.  
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Young man, just reach my age, then we talk again.” John giggled and so did Sherlock. “What I wanted to say, maybe I would have told you that when I would have been really old. But I guess, that you would have figured it out earlier. You know, it’s like with murderers or other criminals at some point they make a mistake. Probably, I had betrayed myself at some point, with a few words... or you would have caught me during a ‘date’, maybe with a man... or you had caught me during a wank.”

Sherlock had stopped the giggling, he had listened to John and bowed his head.  
“That doesn’t mean that you’re gay, just because you have a wank in the shower or in your bed. And I never heard you.”  
“Believe me, you would have figured it out, that I like men, if you had caught me. It’s not a topic for that pub. I don’t want to talk about the things I like during sex or during a wank in this pub. Just let me tell you, if you would have caught me, it would have been clear that I’m attracted to men. And you never heard me, because I did it as silently as possible.” John smiled softly.  
“I think, I know what you mean. This morning you weren’t silent.”

John scratched his neck, with slightly red cheeks.  
“I know... I couldn’t hold it back. I mean... it’s all about fantasy during a wank, and I had to imagine what it would feel like... your kisses, your touches, your body. I could hold it back, the loud moans, when we lived together in Baker Street. Then I moved to Potters Bar, own house and I didn’t have to hold back my noises, because nobody was there, just me. But yeah, this morning, I knew how it felt kissing you, get kissed by you, get lovely caresses from you, I knew how your body felt on mine. And with that knowledge, it wasn’t possible to hold back, not the slightest noise. I’m sorry, love. I hope, I didn’t make you feel uncomfortable.”

Sherlock watched him with soft eyes, he shook is head.  
“No... no, not uncomfortable. It was a bit strange, but on the other hand... I liked it, to hear you like that and hear my name and that you enjoy yourself because of me; that I’m the one, who give you in a way that pleasure.”  
“How much do you liked it?”  
“I would have liked it really much and probably joined you in the shower, if I wouldn’t have been nervous and in panic as hell.” Sherlock admitted in a shy voice.  
John smiled and bent forward.  
“Lean in a bit, honey.” He said with a low and tender voice.

Sherlock looked at John, waited a few second and leaned forward.  
John smiled and laid his hand on Sherlock’s cheek. His thumb caressed across the shaved cheek and the cheekbone.  
“It’s great that you liked to hear it.” John murmured softly. “And I promise you, if you’re ready someday, I will take care of you, that you won’t be able to hold back any noises.” He flirted charmingly.  
Sherlock looked him in the eyes, but he saw, that John licked above his lower lip. His heart pounded in his chest with nervousness and curiosity, and John’s flirting let it beat even more, with a sweet, cozy tingle in his stomach. He loved his flirting, that man was absolutely charming, and wouldn’t he be already in love with him, he would fall for him again, very easily. John just needed to click his fingers and he would fall for that man, again and again.  
John smiled at him and bent a bit more forward. His nose rubbed over Sherlock’s, before he kissed him tenderly.  
It didn’t take long and Sherlock returned his kiss, as tenderly as he kissed him.   
Jesus, he is a fucking great kisser, John thought.  
He sighed into their kiss, when he felt Sherlocks soft touch on his cheek. His hand lay on John's cheek, and the thumb rubbed gently, like as John did it a few moments ago on Sherlock’s cheek.   
The difference was, that John wasn’t shaved, he had a little stubble.   
And as they broke apart, Sherlock laid his cheek against John’s. He rubbed his soft cheek across John’s scratchy one.  
“Don’t shave.” He murmured in a low, shy and embarrassed voice.  
“Oh, there’s someone, who likes men with a beard.” John teased him a bit with a flirty tone. He could feel Sherlock’s hot cheeks and he needed to giggle. He broke apart, looked at Sherlock and kissed his cheek with a big peck. “You’re really cute.”

John leaned back and winked. He took his beer and drank a few sips.  
Sherlock smiled shyly, took a deep breath and drank a sip out of his glass.  
After they had finished the beer, they ordered again – Sherlock ordered, nicely and with a truthful smile and after the next beer, they ordered again. Sherlock seemed to enjoy it, even though, that he didn’t want to go out in the first place.  
Sherlock held his pint in his hand and John a glass of whiskey.  
John enjoyed it, it was great that Sherlock had come with him, he loved that spontaneous night with him. Sherlock looked happy, sometimes a bit shy and sheepish, when John flirted with him. One could say without doubt that Sherlock liked the night as well. He was very chatty and John loved that mix, the mixture of the old Sherlock and the new Sherlock. He was still showing off, rude and arrogant, but now in very likable and charming way; he was really nice and funny, sometimes unbelievable cute in his behavior; and that chatting was great too. Not to mention his new look, it was just the shorter hair and a bit of other clothes, but it makes a huge difference; he went from a really good looking man, to a hot and handsome looking man, you thought it would be your cause of death. Just now, with that white t-shirt, the muscly arms and chest and that dark blue jeans; absolutely casual but hot as hell.

“John? John?” Sherlock tried again. “Mr. Watson?” He grinned a bit. “I don’t know which title you prefer; Captain Watson, or Doctor Watson, or do you want me to name you talented author Watson or just teacher Watson? Doesn’t matter to me, as long as you answer me, honey.” He said the last word without thinking and bit his lip. It felt strange to use these words, but on the other side, it made him a nice feeling in his heart and stomach.

John blinked a few times, after he had heard the pet name, honey. He looked to Sherlock and scratched across his stubble.   
“Sorry, love. I was... “  
“Staring at me and not listening, because you were distracted.” Sherlock finished John’s sentence with a lovely smirk.  
“Right,... I was distracted by your body and your casual style, which is fucking hot by the way. What have I missed?”  
Sherlock looked down at himself and then again to John, glad that he liked and fancied that style.  
“Um, well. Thanks... darling. I... I talked about you and the rooftop thing.”  
“I haven’t heard a word. I’m really sorry, love. Could you say it again, please.”

“I said, that I’m sorry for the thing I did, that I left you behind like this, that you have to see it. I’m sorry that you cried because of me and were very sad; probably you’re still sad. Um, well... but I think, maybe in a way it was good. In a way it had done you good. I mean, you opened yourself, you fought against your trust issues, against the thing your father had done to you and people you know and these strangers, who beat the hell out of you. You came out properly, you made new friends, even with my brother... you have a nickname for him, and he doesn’t care about it; not even mummy was or is allowed to call him Mike or whatever, and he seemed to like your Myc very much. And you found a new profession, as a teacher and a writer. I don’t know your skills as a teacher, but you’re a pretty good writer. Probably you have written a very big and famous book.”

John bowed his head, he swallowed and took a sip.  
“In a way you’re right, hun. I changed after I thought I lost my best friend, my soulmate and the love of my live. You’re right, I found new friends and I found one of my best friends in your brother. Sometimes he call me Johnny – a name I usually didn’t like. He has the permission.” John smiled. “You’re right with my new jobs... but I would have loved to change like that with you – with you at my side. Maybe it wasn’t possible to do that. You know, one door closed, the other opens. Sometimes it had to be really bad, before it can be really good. I hope the bad times are over for the two of us, love.” 

Sherlock bent forward and caressed across John’s thigh with his free hand.  
“I hope that too.” Sherlock said gently and John took Sherlock’s hand in his. “May I guess what your appointment on Monday is about? I don’t want to spoil that night with bad memories.”  
John bowed his head, he was glad that Sherlock didn’t want to talk about it further. Of course, they would talk about it again, but not tonight, not on a lovely pub night as a couple. He needed to smile widely, giggling a bit.  
“You don’t have to guess. You know it, that’s the face you pull when you know an answer to a question or a riddle.”  
Sherlock smirked and turned his hand around. They entwined their fingers.  
“You have an appointment to talk about film rights.” Sherlock stated, instead of guessing.  
“I told you, you know it.” John said softly. “So, tell me my dear genius, how you know that.”

“It’s the only possibility. The book is available in all bookstores, even online; there are people who translate your book in more different languages, so all the people around the world, can read your book properly. The other book, the Sequel, isn’t ready now and why would you not just say it, that you’ve an appointment to talk about the publishing; that’s not a big decision to make. So, it’s obvious the film rights for the book.”  
“Brilliant, as always.” John squeezed Sherlock’s hand. “It’s absolutely right, the appointment on Monday is about film rights. I will meet a director from New Zealand, who want to have the rights.”  
Sherlock looked at him proudly.  
“And... do you have an opinion right now about that?”  
“Not really, I’m open for it. I will see what he has to say on Monday, and if we agree with the money and with my rules and all these other things... well, then I would do it. I don’t really know him, but I’ve watched a few movies from him, they’re really good and I think he would be the right one, if I ever sell the book rights. He seemed to be a nice bloke, who is really euphoric about movies and you know, fantasy stuff. And he’s a very famous director, producer and screenwriter.”  
“I think you will make the right decision... and when you decide for selling the rights, I will go to the cinema for the first time in my live.” He grinned softly at the end.  
“Oh no, love. We will go to the cinema beforehand.” John grinned.  
“Deal.” Sherlock smirked.

 

The night passed by and after a last beer and whisky, Sherlock paid.  
They walked home. Sherlock had his arm around John’s shoulder and John his arm around Sherlock's back, the head leaned against Sherlock’s shoulder.  
At home, they slipped out of their shoes, went to the bathroom, brushed their teeth and one after the other used the toilet.

Sherlock was the first one who lay in bed; on his back and just with a boxer brief. John opened the window and undressed his jeans. After that he opened the buttons of his shirt and get rid of it. He crawled into the bed and under the blanket.  
John beamed at Sherlock and slipped closer. He laid his scratchy cheek on Sherlock’s slightly muscly chest, a hand on its flat stomach and one leg across Sherlock's long legs; after that he slipped even closer, pressed his nearly naked body against Sherlock’s. It was lovely to feel his soft skin on his own.  
Sherlock looked down with his eyes, laid his arm around John’s shoulder and the other hand on John’s hand on the stomach.  
John sighed and kissed Sherlock’s chest.

“It was really lovely at the pub. Thanks for coming with me and thank you for being my pillow tonight.”  
“It was. I really liked it. And you can use me as your pillow as often and long as you like.”  
“Don’t say that, you will never ever leave this bed again.”  
He felt the vibration of Sherlocks laughter, and he heard it, that deep voice – laughing.  
It was infectious, he giggled and snuggled closer.  
“I will carry you to the loo and the kitchen and work. Even though I have to do it forever, once I have started, you cuddling monster.”  
They giggled again.

John kissed Sherlock’s chest.  
“Sleep well, honey. Love you.” John murmured softly and closed his eyes.  
He felt Sherlock’s kiss on his head and purred.  
“Good Night, John.” He murmured. “Love you, too.” He mumbled afterwards.  
And as a reward for Sherlocks lovely words, John snuggled closer and smiled widely with closed eyes.


	24. The things beneath the happiness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A body was shaking like mad.  
> There was so much more beneath the happiness.

_Saturday/Sunday, middle of the night, John’s bedroom_

The body in Sherlock’s arm was shaking immensely, but only when Sherlock felt a leg, which was kicking him, and a hand, which fingers pinched hurtful into his side, he startled out of his sleep. Sherlock gasped for air, the pinching had been really hurtful, as well as the kicking. He rubbed across the part of his skin, where fingers had pinched him and looked down to John, who was still lying on his chest.  
Sherlock watched the shaking body and the fingers pinched him again, and then - again. He let out a whining noise and freed himself out of the cuddling position with John.  
John was shaking next to him, his left hand trembled, made a fist over and over again. He was sweating, his hair already damp. His mouth escaped whimpering noises, murmurs, which Sherlock couldn’t understand; a word that seemed to be his name, at least it sounded like Sherlock, and the word he could understand very well was ‘no’, it was the word, John used the most.  
He obviously has a really bad nightmare.

Sherlock switched on the bedside lamp and turned around to face John. He let his hand gently ran through John’s sandy-grey strands, rubbed with his thumb softly across John’s temple.  
“John.” He tried, but nothing happened. “John, hey... you need to wake up.” Sherlock said with a low and deep voice. And again – nothing happened.   
Sherlock sat up properly, caressed across John’s scratchy cheek, which let John shaking even worse. He put his hands on John’s shoulders and shook him carefully.  
“John! You need to wake up. It’s just a dream.” Sherlock said a bit louder, but with the same warm and tender voice. “John, I’m here, wake up. I’m here, with you.”

In John’s dream it felt like Sherlock would shake him.   
He had dreamed about him, about that deadly jump, over and over again this night. It was always the same, as it would be a continuous loop. Every time the same story, but different places. Sherlock on a high building, a call, Sherlock’s voice, which tell him, he would jump, and this time properly, it wouldn’t be a joke; then he jumps, a lot of blood, a running and screaming John, who kneels after a few moments in front of Sherlock; and after a few minutes of crying and shaking the dead body, Sherlock just opens his eyes, smiles and says ‘I’m kidding, it’s just a joke, I’m alive.’. And then there was a new place with a new high building and all started again.  
Sherlock was lying in front of him, dead, with a lot of blood around his head. He himself was crying, was shaking Sherlock’s dead body. And then Sherlock opened his eyes again, he was smiling, but his voice was much warmer and softer that time – and his words weren’t the same. And on top of that, he was shaking him too. He was shaking him and telling him, that he would be here - with him.

John startled out of his dream and out of his sleep. He opened his eyes abruptly and in shock; and when he saw Sherlock in the dull light, hovering over him, he punched him, without thinking twice. His fist banged Sherlock’s lips, and even though John was tired and in a lying position, his punch was hard and strong, so that Sherlock’s lower lip split open and blood dripped out of the wound immediately.  
Sherlock’s eyes went big in shock, not because of the punch, but because he hadn’t seen it coming. And the other thing he hadn’t seen coming was a second punch. Just like the first one, out of the lying position, hard and strong. This time it was Sherlock’s nose and cheek; and the third hard punch from the ex-soldier banged Sherlock’s shoulder.  
Blood dropped out of the open wound on the lip, out of his nose; the punch against his shoulder had been hurtful and properly he would get a huge bruise.

“I hate you.” John spilled out.  
The way John said it, made clear that he actually knows that this wasn’t a dream, he knows that this was reality and the three punches and the words had been willful.  
Sherlock looked at him and raised his hand to wipe the blood away.  
“I... I’m sorry John. You... you dreamed about me.” Sherlock murmured, and wiped the blood away again.

John sat up, he looked angry, and grumpy, as well as he looked, sad, hurt and disappointed. His hair was tousled and damp, his eyes red and swollen, he had cried in his dream and he had cried for real. His cheeks were wet from his tears and his body sweaty. The hand was trembling, his leg was hurting badly.  
“Of course, you fucking git. Of course, I’ve dreamed about you and your bloody faked jump. I dream about it, since you decided to let your best friend watch your suicide, you mad fucking asshole. It’s your fault, that I’ve nightmares about you. You just fake your death in front of me, let me believe that you’re dead, and then you involve lovely people, which have to lie in front of other people, like your brother and Molly and your parents. They all needed to lie to me. And then you just came back, like nothing happened. You’re an egoistic man, without any feelings or second thoughts.” He spilled out without thinking; he was too hurt and angry.

Sherlock swallowed and looked at John, who turned away and swung his legs out of the bed. He sat on the edge and Sherlock tilted his head to the side.   
He took a deep breath, wiped the blood away, which was still dropping, and slipped closer. He laid his arms around John’s chest.  
“Don’t. Touch. Me.” John said with a stiff voice. His whole body was straight and stiff.   
Sherlock didn’t let him go. He wouldn’t let him go anymore.  
“Don’t touch me!” John said again.  
And Sherlock didn’t let him go. He held him tight, didn’t give him a chance to stand up. Of course, he would be able to stand up, if he really would want that. He was an ex-soldier, he wouldn’t need much, to free himself out of that hug.  
“Don’t... ” He murmured. “Don’t touch... me.” He muttered in a low hurtful voice. His body was shaking in tears. He cried, as he never cried before.  
Sherlock just sat there, he didn’t dare to say a word, he just hugged John and held him tight. 

John kneaded his hand. The tears were rolling down his cheeks, he sobbed and his throat was hurting from crying.   
They sat there, John on the edge of the bed, Sherlock behind him, his arms around John’s chest.   
A few minutes, half an hour passed away.   
Half an hour full of tears, sobbing, gasping for air.  
Half an hour of just hugging tight, not moving a millimeter.

There was a sobbing, a gasp for air again and a nasal voice, one could barely understood.  
“Shower.” John murmured between the sobbing and the gasping.  
Sherlock pressed him against his chest for a few seconds and let him go.  
John wiped his tears away and stood up slowly. He didn’t turn around; he walked to the nearly open bedroom door and left the room.  
Walking was the wrong word, he was limping out of the bedroom.  
Sherlock swallowed, his heart was racing and his stomach tingled, not because he was cozy and in love and all that, but because he was hurt, that John was hurt, that John was crying, that John felt bad, that he had nightmares, that he had made John feel like that. He didn’t want that John was sad or hurt, it was okay when he was angry, grumpy and yelling; but it wasn’t okay that John felt sad and hurt, and especially not because of him.

He heard the bathroom door and a few seconds later the shower. He stood up and looked around. He found what he was searching for next to the bed on the other side. It leaned against the little bookshelf, next to the second window.  
John’s cane.  
He walked over, took it and left the bedroom. He still could hear the shower, so he opened the door a bit, just to lean the cane on the wall next to the door; after that he closed the door again and went down to the guest bathroom, or to be precise, the guest toilet.  
He needed to stop his bleeding nose and lip; and clean up a bit.

 

Some time passed away, and when John turned off the shower and stepped out, he wondered why he had fallen in love with that selfish bastard.  
Just one thing that caught his eyes right after his thought, told him exactly, why he loved that not selfish bastard.  
The cane.  
John bowed his head.  
Right, that it was – he loved him because he’s handsome, clever, smart, hot, mad, interesting, unique and a bit of a bad guy – means, that he’s actually, sometimes a selfish bastard, rude and arrogant. And not to forget that cane - he’s caring and loving.  
Just that little gesture touched John’s heart in a deep and real way.

He dried himself a bit, wrapped the towel around his waist and took his cane.   
That was much better.  
His leg was still hurting, the hand still trembling, but with the cane, the leg didn’t hurt that much, during the walking.  
He went to the bedroom, but the bed was empty.  
John looked around and panic flooded through his veins. He swallowed and closed his eyes.  
“Calm down John. Dress yourself and go to the guest room, maybe he’s there.” He said to himself.  
He took his own order and walked to the dresser. He slipped into a boxer shorts, turned the bedside lamp off and walked with his cane to the guest room.

The light on the bedside table was switched on and Sherlock was lying on his back under the blanket, as John walked in with his cane.  
He walked to the bed and bowed his head.  
“Um... have you left, because I punched and yelled at you? Or have you left because you thought I would rather be alone?” John asked with an uncomfortable feeling.  
“Second one.” Sherlock murmured with a sad voice.  
John smiled again, he took a few steps, leaned his cane against the wall and slipped into the bed.  
“Then I can come to you.” John said warmly. And when he lay in bed, he turned to Sherlock and kissed his cheek with a sweet peck. “Thanks for the cane. That was lovely.”  
“You... you didn’t want to be alone? I thought maybe, you didn’t want to have me in your bed anymore.”  
“No... no, I didn’t want that... I mean to be alone. If I’m honest,... I would love to have you every night in my bed, next to me.” John said gently.  
“We... if you want, we can go to your bedroom.” Sherlock murmured.  
John looked around and to Sherlock again.  
“No. I’m fine. Mattress, is there. Pillow, is there. Blanket, check. Oh... and a Sherlock, check. All things I need are there, even a Sherlock, I’m a lucky person.” John smiled a bit.  
Sherlock eyed him softly.   
“What’s the best of it?”  
“The Sherlock, who is lying in this bed. He’s not just a man, he’s also a really good pillow and his warm body replaced the blanket. And I don’t need a mattress, I don’t care to sleep on a rough or hard ground. I was in the army, sometimes the beds were more uncomfortable than a pavement.” John smiled.  
Sherlock had listened and smiled.  
“That’s logical and... sweet.” Sherlock admitted.

John smiled and slipped closer. His leg was still hurting, the hand was still trembling, his hair tousled and damp, not sweaty, but from the shower. His face was swollen from the crying, his eyes red.  
“I’m... not really sorry for the punches, but are you okay, love?” John asked softly.  
“I am. I’m fine. It’s okay... the punches. I’m glad you were tired and lying, otherwise I would probably have a broken shoulder, nose and cheekbone, and probably I wouldn’t have teeth anymore.” He smiled and nudged John’s upper arm, who grinned a bit. “And I was downstairs, cleaned myself up a bit and fix it. I found your second first aid kit in the kitchen. I think the other one is in the bathroom, but I didn’t want to disturb you. I just brought you the cane.” He said and slipped a bit closer, like John had done it. His thumb caressed along John’s swollen and red eyes. “I’m not angry with you or sulking. I know why you did it and I deserved it. I’m just really sad and hurt, because you’re sad and hurt.” Sherlock said in a low voice.

There was an enjoyable sigh. It was John, who really liked Sherlocks caresses with his thumb. He had closed is eyes. He wanted to say something, but Sherlock was faster.  
“Well,... could you as a doctor look if I have done it right?” Sherlock asked.   
He wasn’t an idiot, he knows exactly that he had fixed that properly, and he knows that John knows that too, but he wanted that he looked at him and took care of him.  
John smiled and opened his eyes. He supported himself on his elbow and hovered his face above Sherlock’s. He mustered him carefully and lovely; then he bent down and kissed Sherlock’s lips tenderly and carefully, after that he murmured something.  
“It looked good. The split on your lip should be closed tomorrow, it’s not that big. It just didn’t take much to make someone bleed very much there. We both know why.” John winked. He kissed the nose and the cheekbone. “Probably bruises, but not broken, as you say, I was tired and lying when I punched you. It looked good too.” He looked down to Sherlock’s shoulder, bent down and kissed the part of the shoulder, where he had punched him. “Same here, probably a big, dark bruise. I will kiss it, until it’s away. I’m in a way, sorry.” He kissed the shoulder again.  
Sherlock had closed his eyes, he had goose bumps and he felt John’s smile, as he noticed it. And then he heard John’s voice again.  
“Goose bumps. You’re enjoying the kisses and caresses.” He whispered. “Honey... I’m sorry for what I said. It’s not true, you know that, right? I didn’t hate you. I love you. And you’re not an egoistic person. I’m sorry for that. I dreamed about the jump the whole night, again and again, much blood and your dead body and suddenly you opened your eyes and said it was just a joke. I was overwhelmed and panicked. I think, I just have buried all this anger beneath the happiness that you’re back and alive. In fact, you’re a really loving and caring person. You’re like the Grinch.”

Sherlock opened his eyes. He wasn’t hurt because of Johns words. He knows it was just an outburst of feelings he had held back. He was okay with it. He didn’t doubt John’s love, he was just moving into the guest room, because he thought, that John needed some time alone.  
“I am your lovely genius, I know that already.” He said with a little confident smirk. And John smirked with him. Then Sherlock looked irritated. “I don’t know a person who called himself Grinch.”  
“My lovely genius, yeah? And then you don’t know the Grinch? It’s a famous children’s book, an animated movie, a real person movie.”  
“I don’t even know anything about the solar system, darling. Why should I know anything about a kids book? Who’s that Grinch?”

John grinned an nudged softly Sherlock’s chest.  
“I will send you to the kindergarten for the Grinch and to the school for the solar system.”  
“Of course you will.” Sherlock teased him with a grin.  
John grinned lovely.  
“Okay, so the Grinch, my sweetheart, is a... um, well he’s not really a person. Or at least, he looks very different. We will watch it. I can spoil it now, you always know the end of a film. He’s very different in his look and personality, so the other people in the village, didn’t like him. He lives alone on a mountain, just with his dog Max. Nobody visits him, because they’re all afraid. He’s very grumpy and nasty and doesn’t like Christmas. He wants to spoil it and make it horrible for everybody in that town he came from. Stealing presents, food, Christmas trees; he scares the people and damages things. His heart is very small, and surrounded by spider webs, because it is dried up. In the end it turns out, that he is the one who feels, cares and loves the most. He just had made bad experiences”, John said with a smile. “I know, you’re the one in that room, who’s the one who cares, loves and feels the most.”

Sherlock looked at him and raised an eyebrow.  
“Lovely story... um, but I don’t think that you’re right.” Sherlock smiled.  
“Oh, I am Sherlock. I’m right. And some day you will give me right.” John smiled.  
“What am I supposed to do with that?”  
“Nothing, love. Just live, trust and love - and enjoy your life, and then one day you will say to me, that I was right.” John smiled lovely.

Sherlock sighed, he switched off the bedside lamp and snuggled a bit closer. He kissed John’s forehead, both swollen cheekbones and after that his lips. It felt good to kiss him, especially the parts, where he could feel the stubble.  
He smiled at John and took his still trembling hand in his own. He entwined their fingers and he could still feel the trembles; the fingers, which rubbed now across his hand, not because John wanted to caress him, but because of the tremor.  
Sherlock raised their hands and kissed the back of John’s hand. He pressed their hands against his chest, against his heart.

John looked at him, overwhelmed by this gesture.  
“The one who cares the most.” John just smiled with knowing eyes.  
Sherlock smiled, closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against John’s.   
He needed to say the three words, but it wasn’t as easy for him as it was for John.   
“I love you.” He said a bit hasty.  
John smiled widely and kissed Sherlock’s nose.  
“I love you, honey.”

Exactly twenty-four minutes and forty-eight seconds.  
That was the time, Sherlock still felt the trembling and the rubbing of John’s hand and fingers.  
John had calmed down and was falling asleep.  
But Sherlock didn’t let go John’s hand.


	25. Funfair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a summer party in Potters Bar and John and Sherlock visit the funfair.

_Sunday, afternoon, Potters Bar, summer party_

Both men had slept in. It had been already lunchtime when they had woken up. They had been lying in bed, cuddling and talking about last night; especially about the punching. John had felt sick about it. In the end, he wasn’t better than all the people who had punched him in the past. He wasn’t better than his father, or his ‘friends’ or these strangers on the street, who had punched him. He had punched Sherlock without any reason, to be precise, there was a reason, but punching wasn’t the thing to make it better or to solve that problem. At least that was what John had thought. Sherlock had calmed him down; nearly an hour he had talked with him, explaining that it was a complete different thing.

It wasn’t the same, not in the slightest. John had been punched so hard that he was more than once in the hospital and there was no reason at all; for Sherlock it wasn’t a reason to get punched because someone was gay. It was false and disrespectful.   
But it wasn’t false to punch someone, who had faked his death in front of his best friend, being away three years and come home again – fully alive. John hadn’t punched him just because he hated Sherlock for that, there were so much more feelings – anger, sadness, happiness, disappointment, relief, wounded honor and wounded trust.  
He had needed nearly an hour to calm John down, to make him believe that he isn’t like the other people who had punched him.

The rest of the day, they had spent with showering and cooking - pasta and salad. They had eaten together and afterwards John had suggested to go to the Potters Bar summer party. Sherlock had agreed and then he had agreed to say and show Mycroft that they were together. He didn’t know why he had agreed, it was some sort of ‘not thinking twice, because I’m happily in love with my old flatmate’. And now he was nervous, standing next to John at the entry to the big summer party, waiting for Mycroft and Amanda, who were on their way from London to Potters Bar. It wasn’t the thing that they were together since Friday and that it was only Sunday; it wasn’t too fast to say it Mycroft, but it would be strange to act like a couple in front of Mycroft, even though he knows about John’s love for him, and Amanda knows at least that John was gay.

John looked up to him, he was standing there with a nice pair of shoes, a dark blue jeans, a navy blue polo shirt and sunglasses; his grey-sandy hair tousled through the wind, the stubble was now a three-days-beard. He laid his hand on Sherlock’s lower back.  
“We don’t have to make out in front of your brother and Amanda, honey.”  
Sherlock looked down, also with a dark blue jeans, a light grey casual button up shirt, no sunglasses, but one could see a slightly swollen nose and a bruise on his cheek. The split on his lip was closed, but one could see that there had been a split.

“It’s not that it is too fast, John. I’m okay with it. I trust you, I know you wouldn’t hurt me with the love ting. It’s just strange.” He said and smiled softly. And when he looked up again, he saw Amanda and Mycroft walking towards them in casual clothing – jeans and sneakers. For Amanda a blouse and some sunglasses, for Mycroft just a polo shirt. They were holding hands, talking and grinning at each other. “And... it’s weird to see my brother like that.” Sherlock pointed to them.

John followed Sherlock’s forefinger with his gaze and grinned, because of Sherlock’s comment.  
“It’s totally normal, he’s not at work so he can wear some casual clothes, which suit him very well; he loves Amanda, so he holds hands with her. It’s a normal picture of your brother and Amanda – holding hands, chatting, making each other laugh.” John said, and before Mycroft and Amanda reached them he patted Sherlock’s back. “Please love... be nice, yeah? Just be as cozy and relaxed as in the pub yesterday. For me Sherlock,... give him a chance to show you that he was, is and will be always your big brother.”  
Sherlock sighed and took a deep breath.  
“What does that do for me?”  
John caressed Sherlock’s lower back.  
“A really happy big brother, and the love of your big brother... and a happy boyfriend.” John smiled.  
Sherlock watched him and raised his eyebrow. Destroying the walls for John Hamish Watson was one thing, they were small and with a lot of holes in it since the first meeting; but destroying those huge and thick walls, which protect his heart from Mycroft – that was a totally different thing. He didn't know if he was able to do that.

There wasn’t much time to think about it. Amanda just hugged him with a big smile on her face and kissed his cheek. After that she did the same thing with John, who hugged her back tightly. Mycroft stood now in front of him, had hugged John amicable beforehand.  
Sherlock reached out his hand, but Mycroft didn’t take it, instead of that, he hugged Sherlock – not like he had hugged John, he hugged him more deeply like one would hug a close and loved family member.  
“I’m not allowing these hand shaking greetings anymore.” Mycroft said, patted Sherlock’s shoulder and smiled at him when he broke apart.  
Sherlock looked at him in surprise.  
“Well... hello Mycroft.” Sherlock said in surprise and a bit stiff, because of that unexpected hug.  
“Hello Sherlock, it’s great to see you.” Mycroft smiled again.  
Sherlock tried to smile as well.

John and Amanda stood next to them, they bowed their heads and John reached out for Sherlock’s hand.   
“Great... can we go?” John asked the Holmes brothers.  
Mycroft turned to him and raised his eyebrow.  
“Just two things... couple?” He asked and pointed to the hands of Sherlock and John, which were entwined.  
John smiled and nodded.  
“Yeah, we are.”

Amanda was faster than Mycroft.  
“Jesus, that’s lovely.” She smiled at Sherlock and John; after that to her own partner. “You didn’t seem surprised.”  
John grinned.  
“He knew that I was and I am in love with his brother.”  
Amanda pulled a face and hit Mycroft’s stomach with her flat hand.  
“You could have said something!” She grinned.  
“It wasn’t your business.” Mycroft grinned. “If you want to hear or read gossip and tittle-tattle read a magazine or watch telly.”  
Amanda grinned at him and shook her head in amusement.

Mycroft grinned as well and turned his head to John, smiled at him, but his voice was serious.  
“You’re my best friend John... but you know,... Sherlock is my brother. Which means, if you hurt him and I mean not these little punches you obviously gave him.” He pointed at Sherlock’s face. “I mean his heart, if you break his heart, I will make sure that your soldier skills won’t help you during my punishment. Understood?”  
Sherlock stood there. He couldn’t even say that he doesn’t need a bodyguard or a babysitter. He was too surprised by the fact that Mycroft stood up for him, that he had made sure, that his little brother didn’t get hurt.  
“Understood, Mycroft.” John nodded with a smile. “Don’t panic about your brother, I will take care of him and his heart.” He patted Mycroft’s upper arm. “Take your lovely fiancee and let’s have fun now.”  
Mycroft smiled.  
“Great my friend.”

 

And they had fun. A lot of fun actually.   
There were a lot of stands with a lot of different food; warm food, cold food, salty food, sweet food, exotic food, food that looked a bit strange. There were stands with possibilities to win some sorts of cuddling animals and other stuff, there were a view carousels and a big tent – one could hear the music from the inside.  
They had already eaten at one of the stands, had driven with the tunnel of horror – no one was scared, but it had been absolutely funny, even Sherlock had laughed afterwards.  
At the moment they stand in the row for the big wheel. 

As they could enter one of the waggons, they sat down and John laid his hand on Sherlock’s thigh. He rubbed gently across the fabric of the jeans and smiled up to Sherlock.  
Mycroft had laid his arm around Amandas shoulder and kissed her temple, as the wheel moved slowly.  
Sherlock looked down to John and smiled as well. It was awkward, because of Mycroft, but it wouldn’t get better, when he spoiled every kiss or caress from John.   
John’s hand squeezed softly Sherlock’s thigh, he leaned in, and as he noticed, that Sherlock didn’t move back, he kissed his cheek gently.  
Sherlock closed his eyes and laid his hands on John’s.

At the highest position the wheel came to a halt.  
“I love these big wheels, we need to go to the London Eye, darling. You’ve promised me that a year ago, and we haven’t been there until now.” Amanda said to Mycroft.  
“I know. We had always made something else on the weekends. I’m sorry, we will go there next weekend.”   
“You know, you have said it now in the presence of witnesses.” Amanda smirked and pointed at Sherlock and John. “You really need to go to the London Eye, it’s beautiful! And you need to go there too. I guess, you weren’t there as well.” She smiled at Sherlock.  
Sherlock looked to her.  
“That’s right, haven’t seen it from the inside.”  
Mycroft smiled to him, watched him and John.

The wheel moved again and when they had been ridden a few rounds, they left the big wheel. They strolled across the funfair, ate some sweets and ice cream, rode with the water splash attraction and John and Amanda with a strange looking roller coaster.  
In the late evening they entered the big tent. Live music was playing, it was filled with the smell of sausages and other food, as well as beer, and it was filled with a lot of people. They found four free seats on one of the ale-benches in the middle of the crowd.   
And before John and Amanda left to fetching up some food, John gave Sherlock a proper kiss on the lips. His hand caressed across Sherlock’s cheek and he smiled happily.  
“It’s a beer for me, if one of the ladies comes around, love.” John said, and gave Sherlock a second soft kiss on the lips, before he winked and just disappeared in the crowd.   
Amanda as well.

Mycroft sat in front of him and grinned. And he grinned even more when he saw Sherlock’s red cheeks, his shy smile and the hand, which was scratching shyly the neck.  
“Sherlock, honestly... you don’t have to feel uncomfortable or ashamed because of me. I don’t stalk you, Okay... now I have watched the two kisses, but it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”  
“I’m not ashamed of John’s kisses... it’s just the fact that it is in front of you. It’s weird.”  
“Look Will... other brothers in that world have seen much more.” Mycroft said.  
“That was your nickname for me, when I was younger... Will. I’ve told you to tell me Sherlock, and you have done that, but when we were fooling and joking around or you played with me, you always called me Will or William.” Sherlock stated. “Why have you never called me that, when you left for university?”

“I know. It was my nickname for my little brother... and I was the only one who was allowed to use it. You liked it when I used Will or William. Then I left for university, and suddenly you broke apart with me and you yelled at me, when I used these names. So at some point I just used Sherlock, because I thought Will or William makes you feel uncomfortable and I didn’t want to fight with you.”  
“No. I didn’t like it anymore, just because you left me behind... “ Sherlock admitted.  
Mycroft smiled.  
“I never left you behind and I will never leave you behind. Never! I just had left our house to go to university. Nothing more. I was at a different place, but if you had called me or wrote me, I would have come to you or you could have stayed with me at the weekends, or in the holidays. Now we’re adults, both with partners, I’m not longer at university... but you know,... you can always call me or text me or whatever. I’m there where you need me, immediately. I care for you and I love you, Will. I know something went wrong between us and it seemed to be an awful misunderstanding, we should talk about that, but not here in a tent full of people, who are nearly drunk and loud.”, he screamed with a smile against the music. “I would love to tell you my view of the story and I would love to hear your thoughts, because I would love to have little William back in my life.”

Sherlock watched him and draw circles on the wooden table with his forefinger. He swallowed and take a deep breath.  
“I... I would also like to hear your story. You’re right... it, it seemed to be a huge misunderstanding... and probably my fault in some way. I have always rejected you, because other people made me feel bad and hurt me... and when you left, I thought you were like the others. I would like to talk to you about all that. I would also like to have my big brother back in my life.”   
Mycroft bowed his head and smiled.  
“That’s great... whenever you feel the urge to talk, just text me and you can come over or I come to Baker Street or to Potters Bar.”  
Sherlock smiled a bit and nodded.

Mycroft looked around, John and Amanda were still standing in the row for the food. He lowered his head and looked to Sherlock.  
“I like to see you with John. It’s actually really great. It’s the ultimate perfect scenario. You’re back, he had forgiven you, told you that he loves you and you seemed to love him too. I need to ask something. How much do you know about his past? I just didn’t want to betray him.”  
“Um, well, thank you.” Sherlock screamed also against the loud music. “He told me anything, short version. He said you were the only person, who knows the whole story as well as me. So, I would guess, we know the same things. All the things, with his sister, his father, the friends, university, the punching... ” Sherlock said.  
It made him sick and sad, to think about John’s past. 

Mycroft nodded.  
“Okay,... it’s not a fun topic to talk about now. Um, have you ever had someone before John?” Mycroft asked.  
Sherlock shook his head.  
“No. No... he’s the first person. Um... I was in love with someone, university. It’s not a fun topic as well.”  
Mycroft just nodded and smiled cheerfully.   
“Then we cut off these topics now. It was a great day until now and I don’t want to spoil it, and John and Amanda are coming back with the food. I could murder right now for that food.” Mycroft admitted.  
“Are we having a regression?” Sherlock smiled a bit more, and one could see a little truthfully grin – the first truthfully and nice grin since Mycroft left for university.  
Mycroft grinned as well and he enjoyed Sherlocks smirk.   
“No. But sometimes I just love that food.” He said, and looked up with a beaming smile.

John and Amanda put down the food and the next thing Sherlock felt was a soft kiss on his hair, John’s rubbing hand across his back and then a peck on his cheek, when John sat down next to him.

 

They stayed in the tent, eating their food, listening to the music, chatting with each other. The atmosphere was more cozy after the first little chat between Mycroft and Sherlock. John looked happy, and so did Amanda.   
And Sherlock had to admit that he had loved that afternoon and the evening with John and Mycroft and Amanda.  
In the end Mcroft had hugged him goodbye, and he had thanked Sherlock for the talk and that bit of chemistry which had come back.  
And Sherlock had to admit that it was great to see Mycroft being happy like that.

On top of Mycrofts Thank you, John had thanked him as well. When they were at home again, John had kissed him happily, with little pecks on the lips, with long last kisses, with french kisses; he had thanked him for that lovely day with Amanda and Mycroft.  
It was a great feeling, a feeling he wanted to feel more often. He had made two close people absolutely happy today and it let him feel happy as well.


	26. A day in London and a bet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John has his Hobbit appointment in London. And then he get to know that there was a bet.

_Monday, whole day, Potters Bar/London_

John and Sherlock were still lying in bed. John had woken up before is alarm clock could wake him up and Sherlock had been already awake.  
Sherlock turned around to face John, he supported himself on his arm, leaned forward and bent down to John. He kissed his lips softly – and John returned the kiss with a smile on his face.  
John’s hand stroked across Sherlock’s upper arm during the kiss. He only opened his eyes when Sherlock broke apart and his deep voice was to hear.  
“Can I go to London with you today? Not to the appointment, just visiting Lestrade or Molly... you could text me when your appointment is over and we could fetch up some things from Baker Street.” Sherlock asked, and kissed John’s scratchy cheek.  
John smiled up to him.  
“Yeah, of course. You know, you can go to London every day, you don’t have to ask for my permission. But I would like it, if we go together today... and I will write you when the appointment is done and fetch you up at St. Barts or at the Yard or wherever you are.”, John smiled.

Sherlock smiled softly and nodded.  
“I know John, I just wanted to ask if we go together.” Sherlock smiled.   
“And when I fetch you up... then.... am I your friend or boyfriend?” John asked. He didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable.  
“My brother has seen me kissing you. I don’t care about Greg or someone else.”  
John grinned.  
“He has seen me kissing you. You were too shy to kiss me in front of your brother.”  
Sherlock rolled his eyes with an amused face.  
“Oh, you want to be accurate. Good, he has seen me, while my significant other was kissing me, holding my hand and caressing me.” Sherlock smiled with a little smirk.  
“Great.” John chuckled. “That sounds better.” He patted gently Sherlock’s cheek. “I will go showering, love.”

John pressed a soft kiss on Sherlock’s cheek and sat up, but before he could stand up, Sherlock grabbed his wrist. John turned his head around and smiled with a questioning look to his partner.  
“Can I join you?” Sherlock asked hastily.  
John looked at him in surprise.  
“Um, well, yeah of course, darling.” John nodded. “Just showering?”  
“Just... just a normal shower.”  
“Okay... then come on honey.” John smiled.   
Sherlock watched him as he stood up and waited. Sherlock also sat up and shoved the cover at John’s side of the bed and stood up.

John smiled again and walked out of the bedroom and into the bathroom.   
He turned around, winked at Sherlock and put his shorts down. He stepped out of the boxer shorts and shoved them away with his foot. His hand reached out to Sherlock, on his face lay a warm smile.  
Sherlock's gaze wandered across John’s whole body, from the head to the feet.  
Grey-sandy blonde, loosely, tousled hair.  
Warm deep blue eyes and a warm smile.  
Four-days-beard.  
A slightly muscly chest, with a bit of grey-sandy blonde chest hair and a scar.  
A little belly.  
A thick, but average cock, pubic hair grey-sandy blonde as well.  
Muscly legs.  
He just looked gorgeous.  
Sherlock swallowed and his gaze wandered from John’s feet upwards to the deep blue eyes again.

John smiled even more after Sherlocks body scan.  
“Have you memorized every part of my body in your mind palace, my love?” John asked charmingly. “If so, then I would like to memorize every part of your body in my mind palace.” John said in a flirty tone and winked.  
Sherlock’s cheek got red, as well as his ears.   
“Come on sweetheart... “ John said softly. “You wandered around just in a sheet in the Buckingham Palace.” John smiled and Sherlock’s cheeks were as red as some well matured tomatoes. “You know what? I turn on the shower and you can join me if you want... ”  
He turned around and went to the shower.

Sherlock scanned John’s back view.  
Strong shoulders.  
Nice tanned.  
And a damn hot, round and luscious butt.  
He pushed his own boxer briefs down and closed the distance to John, who has turned on the shower.  
And after a moment of thinking, Sherlock stepped into the shower with John.

John turned his head to him and smiled widely.  
“You... you look great.” Sherlock stammered.  
John’s eyes flew across Sherlock’s whole body; across his face, with these amazing eyes, these mysterious sharp cheekbones and that lovely mouth; across the flat, muscly chest and stomach; across the pale skin. And he needed to lick his lips when he saw Sherlock’s long, but not so thick cock.   
His eyes flew back to Sherlock’s eyes.  
He was sure, it would be amazing to feel that cock in his arse.   
John licked his lips again.  
“You’re absolutely beautiful and gorgeous. And pretty cute with wet hair.” John smiled lovingly. His hair was wet as well, like his whole body.  
Sherlock rubbed his neck shyly.  
“Thank you.”  
“Thank you, too, Sherlock... for your compliment.” John stepped closer.

He searched for some kind of uncomfortableness, but as he didn’t find any, he stepped as close as it was possible and wrapped his arms around Sherlock.  
Sherlock looked down to him. He could feel John's whole body against his own; his wet and warm skin – and it felt absolutely great, every little part felt amazing. He closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around John, felt his little kiss on the collarbone and his hands, which caressed his spine upwards and squeezed his bum. Sherlock gasped for air. His heart was racing really fast and he hugged John closer.  
John smiled and kissed Sherlock’s collarbone again. He loved it to feel Sherlock’s body against his own, it fit very well and he felt comfortable, cozy, safe and at home. His thumbs caressed across Sherlock’s buttocks, who got goose bumps.   
“It’s not a normal shower. I’m sorry, hun, but I can’t keep my hands off you.” John murmured.   
“It’s fine John. It’s nice... I like it. Keep doing it.”  
“Oh, that’s good.” John murmured again. He kissed Sherlock’s collarbone again, a few times and caressed his butt softly.  
Sherlock snuggled closer. Actually, that was absolutely amazing, it nearly overwhelmed him. His hands wandered into John’s hair, who sighed and purred.

They cuddled with a few kisses and caresses under the rain of the shower. John didn’t go any further and Sherlock was thankful for that. It was enough for the beginning to just feel John naked against his own naked body. The kisses and caresses had felt great, had made his heart racing and he knew some day he would be more than ready to go much deeper with John.

After their shower, they brushed their teeth got fully dressed and made some food and tea for their breakfast.   
They left the house, went to the train station in Potters Bar and took the train to King’s Cross. Their ways split at that point.   
Sherlock hailed a cap for St. Barts and John hailed with his bag over his left shoulder a cab to his agency.

 

John’s day at the agency had been great. It was a really nice meeting, and that Peter Jackson was as well a really nice bloke. He had been absolutely euphoric about John’s book and had made some great suggestions and offers.   
It was an absolutely successful meeting for both sides.  
After he had said goodbye to Peter and the others, he texted Sherlock.

_“Hey love. Appointment is done. Where are you?”_ – John

Within two minutes he got a text back from Sherlock.

_“I'm at the Yard. I met Greg at St. Barts – solved a case, while you were talking with this New Zealand bloke. It was quite dull. S.H.”_ – Sherlock

John grinned and shook his head in amusement. He hailed a cab and got in.  
“Scotland Yard, please.“ He smiled to the cabbie, who smiled back and nodded.

_“I’m on my way. His name is Peter and my day wasn’t as dull as your case. And it’s weird that you use your initials.”_ \- John

_“So your day was obviously pretty successful. I’m happy for you and I’m grinning like a maniac. Please hurry up, I’m stuck in Greg’s office, drinking tea with him, Sally and Anderson. And they are really confused about my big smile. Why aren’t you already here, darling?... Is this better?”_ – Sherlock

John laughed and answered Sherlock again.

_“Much better, thank you, hun. Don’t worry, I’m on my way. Just stay there, be nice, drink your tea and chat a bit. And in 15 minutes I will rescue you. And thanks for your support. Love you, genius.”_ – John

_“15 minutes is a long time. Anderson tries to be nice and chatty, it’s awkward. Kiss me, when you greet me, I want to shock them and see their freaked out faces. You’re welcome, love you.”_ – Sherlock.

John grinned and smiled widely, and put the mobile phone in his trouser pocket.

 

After fifteen minutes he paid the cabbie and got out of the cab. He entered Scotland Yard and went upstairs to Greg’s office. He knocked, but opened the door at the same moment.   
Greg was sitting in his chair behind the desk, eating a biscuit.  
Sally leaned against the wall in her hand a cup with coffee.  
Anderson sat on a chair in front of the desk, sipped at his tea.  
Sherlock sat on the other chair, a cup of tea in front of him.   
He seemed to be a bit annoyed, confused – probably because of nice Anderson and Sally. Greg has been always a friend, even though Sherlock hadn’t admitted it until now. John knew it anyway.  
But also, Sherlock seemed to enjoy the little conversation and the tea. But that's another thing he would never admit, especially not in front of Greg, Anderson and Sally. 

They all raised and turned their heads to John, who raised is hand, closed the door behind him and smiled.  
“Hey.”  
Sally and Anderson smiled as well and greeted him.   
“Hello John.”  
Greg smiled and waved at him with the biscuit.  
“Hey, what a surprise to see you here. Do you get into trouble, if yes, our genius is here as well, he solved a case today, I think he could help you, too.” Greg grinned.  
Sherlock rolled his eyes and John grinned broadly.  
“I know that he solved a case. He texted me, that he is here and drinking tea, but he didn’t mention the biscuits.” John grinned. He closed the distance and took a biscuit. “I’m here to fetch him up.” John smiled. He bent down to Sherlock and kissed his lips softly. “Hey love.” He murmured afterwards.

There was silence, not the slightest sound, they didn’t know how to breath.  
Sherlock grinned widely, in the corner of his eyes, he could see Greg’s shocked face. He laid his hand against John’s bearded cheek and gave him a gentle kiss as well.  
“Hello, darling.”  
His heart was racing like mad and he freaked out in his mind, but the faces and now gasps of the others made it worthwhile.

“Bloody hell! Are you fucking kidding us?” Greg asked.  
John grinned, shook his head and took a bite from his biscuit; the other hand lay on Sherlock’s shoulder.  
Sally couldn’t say anything, she just stood there with a shocked and confused face.  
Anderson watched the two and rubbed across his shocked face. After that, he grinned and reached his hand out to Sally.  
“It’s fucking great. We have told you that years before and now I finally get my twenty pounds.”  
Sally looked annoyed and pulled out her wallet.  
Sherlock and John watched it with surprise.  
She smacked twenty pounds in Anderson's hand and twenty pounds on Gregs desk, who grinned now as much as Anderson.

“We are fucking kidding you guys? I think you're fucking kidding us! You guys bet if we love each other.” John complained.  
“And we won! At least Anderson and me.” Greg grinned and took his money.  
Sherlock shook his head and wrapped one arm around John’s hips.  
“At least we’ve seen their funny shocked faces John.”  
John looked down to him and needed to grin. He squeezed Sherlock’s shoulder.  
“I’m glad that you have enjoyed it.” He said and ate his biscuit.   
Sherlock smiled and reached up his mug with the tea. 

Greg looked to them.  
“In a way I can’t believe this. It’s confusing to see you actually as a couple.”  
John took the cup and swallowed the biscuit down.  
“Thanks.” He smiled to Sherlock and took a sip, it was much sweeter than his usual tea, because of Sherlock’s drinking habits – two sugar, no milk. He crawled Sherlock’s neck with his fingertips and looked to Greg. “You need to live with that now. You got twenty pounds, you fucking git.”  
Greg grinned.  
“I can perfectly live with these news.”  
“Great.” John grinned and put the cup down on the desk. “We’re off now.”  
Sherlock stood up immediately.  
“Thanks for the tea.” He said “And the case.”  
Greg turned his head to Sherlock, surprised by Sherlock’s Thank you.  
“Well, you’re welcome. And you don’t have to thank me, we have to thank you for solving the case.” Greg smiled.  
“You’re welcome. Just text me, when you need any help.” He said and smiled a bit. He went to the door and opened it. “Are you coming John?”  
John looked to the others and raised his hand.  
“We’ll see us. Thanks for the biscuit.” John smiled, took another one and went out of the office.   
Sherlock followed.  
They walked downstairs and were laughing about the faces of Greg, Anderson and Sally. 

When they were out of the Yard, Sherlock pulled John in an enthusiastic hug, swirled him around.  
John hugged him too, and laughed in excitement.  
“What happened to you?”  
“Just a congratulatory hug.” Sherlock said. He put John down and hugged him close, kissed his temple and the scratchy cheek. “I didn’t want to congratulate you in the office, I didn’t know if you wanted to say anything, and it seemed that you didn’t want that.”  
“Thank you, honey!” John smiled widely. “That’s sweet. I didn’t want to say something about it now.” John kissed his cheek and hugged him back tightly. He kissed his ear and murmured into it. “Just for you,... I know you know it anyway... but I’ve sold the book rights.”

Sherlock smiled and closed his eyes.  
“I know,... but it’s great to hear it from you personally. It’s great and I guess, you made the right decision. I’m very proud. I love that book, and it will be probably a great movie.”  
John smiled even more and broke apart, at least a bit. He cupped Sherlock’s face, beamed at him.  
“You’re proud of me?”  
“I’m always proud of you.” Sherlock smiled happily.  
“I’m proud of you, too.”  
“I know John. I know,... but that’s not about me today, it’s about you.” Sherlock smiled lovingly

He bent down to John, who still cupped his face.  
He kissed him softly and lovingly. John sighed into the kiss and kissed Sherlock back.  
John felt Sherlock's tongue on his lower lip and granted him entry.   
Their tongues danced with each other – with love and tenderness.  
Sherlock enjoyed the scratching of John’s beard against his lips. He buried the hands in John’s hair. 

 

Greg, Sally and Anderson had been standing in a row at the window – hid behind the curtains.  
They had seen everything; the swirl, every hug, every kiss, every huge smile.   
And when Sherlock and John walked away, holding hands – Greg, Sally and Anderson stood behind the curtains with big eyes, open mouths and without breathing.


	27. A First Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock wants to share more intimate things with John.

_A few days later, Friday/Saturday, after midnight, cab_

After their visit at the Yard on Monday, John and Sherlock had been at Baker Street 221b. They had picked up a few things and clothes from Sherlock, which Sherlock wanted to have in Potters Bar. They had stayed for a while and had drank some tea with Mrs. Hudson, before they had left Baker Street 221b again.  
Sherlock had invited John for a little spontaneous date in a Greek Restaurant to celebrate John’s day and the success of his book. 

The most time of the rest of the week, they hadn’t spent together. John was busy with the preparation of the classes after the holidays and Sherlock had been busy as well; on Tuesday just a case via Skype and Mail, on Wednesday he had studied something the whole day in silence, next to John at the table. And on Thursday he had been busy with a case in London, sometimes he had called John, to talk with him about it and to ask for his opinion. 

Today was Friday, and the usual things had been happening – mostly. One thing he didn’t need to do any longer, since his vacation in Italy – visiting Sherlock’s grave.   
The rest of the Friday routine was as always.  
They had been drinking tea and coffee with Mrs. Hudson, Mycroft and Amanda, and of course they had all eaten a piece of the cheesecake, Mrs. Hudson had made. They had talked with each other and Mrs. Hudson was more than pleased that Sherlock and John were finally together. It nearly seemed that she was more excited about the fact than Sherlock and John themselves.  
After a nice afternoon, a second piece of cake, a lot talking and a nice supper, they had all said goodbye to Mrs. Hudson.

 

At the moment, John and Sherlock were sitting in a car, on their way back to Potters Bar. They hadn’t just eaten supper, they had stayed for a dessert and some drinks with her, Mycroft and Amanda.  
John rubbed his eyes and turned his head to Sherlock afterwards. He laid his hand on Sherlock’s thigh and caressed him through the fabric of the dark trousers he wore. The hand slipped gently and slowly up and down, the fingernails scratched across Sherlock’s knee.  
Sherlock turned his head to John and smiled fondly. He liked the caresses very much, especially the light scratching on his left knee. He felt the goose bumps on his skin and the nice tingling on his body and in his stomach.

John returned the smile lovingly and leaned in.  
He kissed Sherlock’s cheek near the corner of Sherlock’s lips.  
“Everything alright with you, sweetheart?” He asked with a low and soft whisper.  
Sherlock leaned his body against John’s and his forehead as well.  
“I’m fine John. The afternoon was lovely as well as the dinner and the chatting. It’s okay, that we didn’t go home after coffee and cake. So you don’t have to worry. I promised you to be honest… and when I would’ve felt uncomfortable I would’ve said something to you.” Sherlock whispered back. “And what about you?”  
John smiled with bright eyes.  
“I’m great, thanks, love. Why shouldn’t I be?”

Sherlock closed his eyes, kissed John’s nose and enjoyed the soft caress from John immensely. He hoped that John wouldn’t stop this until they would be in Potters Bar.  
“Don’t know.” Sherlock mumbled. One could hear that he was insecure and that something was on his mind.   
John leaned slightly backwards and watched Sherlock. He bowed his head and rubbed across Sherlock’s thigh before his caresses became once more sensitive.  
“There’s something you think about very hard. What’s up in your mind? Riddle, case, deduction about the cabbie, maybe me?” John smiled lovingly.

Sherlock pulled John again a little bit closer; he kissed the bearded cheek and the ear. While he was whispering his lips touched John’s ear.  
“That’s right. Um… well, I was thinking about us. Are you mad or upset with me, because we hadn’t slept with each other, yet?”  
John closed his eyes, it was nice to feel Sherlocks lips breathing against his ear.  
“No! Jesus, no! I’m not. Have I made the impression?” John asked hastily and curiously – just with a low whisper.  
“No, you haven’t. I just thought you must be upset or something. It’s a week now… and we haven’t done it, yet.”  
“Well, we both know, that I got rid of my arousal on my own in the last week, more than once. But, Jesus, love... I’m not upset or anything. It’s just a week, and it’s okay. Yeah? I mean, of course I would love to share a bit more than just kisses, cuddles, caresses, but I don’t want to push you into that. We both should want that, you know? It’s something very intimate, you give yourself in somebody's hands, so you should really want that. Everything is fine Sherlock. I swear. I’m so glad that you’re back, that I had the courage to tell you about me being gay and that I am in love with you. I’m glad that you feel the same and I love all the things we share. There’s no pressure.” John smiled softly.   
Sherlock laid his hand on John’s, stopped the caressing and entwined their fingers.  
“Okay, I just wanted to know. I love the kisses and all that, really much, I love it to be with you, it’s great. It’s not because of you, John.” Sherlock murmured.  
“I know, honey. I know.” John smiled and squeezed Sherlock’s hand. “Just for the record, if you’re ready for more, let me know it immediately. I’m ready as hell.” John smirked.  
“I let you know.” Sherlock grinned slightly. He squeezed John’s hand as well.

 

Nearly half an hour after their little conversation, the cab parked in front of John’s house, who paid him.   
They got out, walked to the door, which John opened with the keys. John put the keys on the drawer, slipped out of his shoes and waited for Sherlock.  
“Bedtime?” He asked him gently.  
Sherlock nodded with a smile.  
“Bedtime.”

They went upstairs, got to the bathroom, brushed their teeth, undressed and used the toilet, before they went to the bedroom with just their boxer briefs.

John crawled under the cover to Sherlock, who wrapped his arms around Johns waist. John lay on his side, turned to Sherlock and smiled at him widely. His fingertips breathed across Sherlock’s upper arm, his lips kissed Sherlock’s cheek a few times.  
Sherlock closed his eyes, sighed with relish.  
The bedside lamp, which Sherlock had switched on, spent a nice light and conjured a great atmosphere. 

Sherlock turned his head a bit to the side and caught John’s lips with his own. His hand caressed across John’s back and his fingertips crawled down the spine.   
John pressed his lips on Sherlock’s immediately. He hummed into the kiss, enjoyed the caresses from Sherlock – goose bumps spread over his whole body.  
He felt Sherlock’s teeth, which bit him into his lower lip – softly and hungry. It was just a short moment, but he felt the arousal building up in his head, his chest, his stomach and his crotch. Sherlock kissed him, like he had never kissed him before, and they had kissed each other a lot. In the bed, in the shower, in the hallway, on the sofa, during a television program, during cooking, to say goodbye and to say welcome back, to say good morning and to say good night – or just to say I love you.   
That kiss was more, more of everything, more softly, more gently, more hungry, more passionately. He kissed him with all he has, licked his lower lip, danced around with John’s tongue, explored John’s mouth, to finally fight with his tongue. 

Sherlock won that fight immediately. John hadn’t a chance, he was completely flashed by this kiss. He couldn’t think straight, his head and mind was out of order, he wasn’t even able to sigh, purr or moan into that kiss. He let go of all the control he has had, just followed Sherlock’s lead.   
In the end, Sherlock nibbled on John’s lower lip, and when he let go, John was more than just speechless.  
He looked at Sherlock with sensual eyes, which were more black than blue and sparkled. His mouth was slightly open, his lips swollen and red. He couldn’t say anything, these lips and the kiss had deleted the knowledge about how to talk. 

Sherlock bowed his head. His lips were swollen and red as well, indeed, a bit more, from John’s beard. He smiled happily and ran his hand through John’s hair.  
“I… I would like to go a bit further tonight.” Sherlock murmured in a low voice.  
John blinked a few times and licked his lips. He needed some time to answer.  
“Um, what… “ John cleared his throat. “Bloody hell your kiss has knocked me out. It was fantastic.“ John rubbed the back of his head. “What do you have in mind, hun? What do you want to do?”  
“Um… the thing you do in the shower.” Sherlock said vaguely.  
“A handjob?” John asked.  
“Yeah, but can you show me first how it works?”  
John bowed his head.  
“Do you want me to wank and watch… or do you want me to give you a handjob.” John asked softly.  
“I want you to give me a handjob.” Sherlock said with a racing heart.  
“You don’t say that, because we talked earlier about that topic?”  
“No… I want it. I really do, I’m just extremely nervous.” Sherlock said hastily.  
John smiled and stroked across Sherlock’s cheek.  
“You don’t have to be nervous… I will give you a pleasurable time.” John said in a flirty voice. 

Sherlock looked at John and leaned his forehead against John’s, who kissed his lips with little pecks. The lips wandered slowly to Sherlock’s cheek, to Sherlock’s ear.  
“Say stop, when it is too much, love.” He murmured. And afterwards he bit Sherlock into his earlobe.   
Sherlock sighed, purred and moaned at the same time. His eyes were closed, since the moment John had kissed him on his lips. 

He bit his lower lip as John sucked at his neck and a loud moan escaped his mouth. He wasn’t used to make such noises, in a way it was embarrassing and on the other hand he couldn’t hold it back. John was the first person, who kissed and touched him like that. He hadn’t even touched himself properly, in the past, he had needed too long to wank off, that he sometimes wasn’t aroused any longer. He wasn’t able to give himself enough pleasure.  
John’s lips sucked his way along his neck, to the Adam’s Apple, and there he sucked and licked much more.   
Sherlock moaned and groaned loudly again, before he bit his lip again.  
John kissed the Adam’s Apple softly, he already was turned on just by Sherlock’s moans. He raised his head and smiled to Sherlock.  
“Love… you don’t need to hold back anything. The only person, who can hear you is your lovely boyfriend. And I can tell you, he really likes your deep and enjoyable moans.” John said with a rough and aroused voice.

Sherlock had opened his eyes and nodded slightly. His heart raced like mad and his whole body was tingling. He was nervous as hell and insecure if he should do anything for John right now.  
John smiled warmly and winked.  
“Just close your eyes and let me explore your bloody hot body. Relax love, it’s all about you now, and you will have a pleasurable time… and I promise you, I will turn off your always running mind.”  
Sherlock swallowed at John’s words. They aroused him, and not just the words, but the hoarse and flirty voice as well.  
“Nearly done.” Sherlock murmured.  
John just winked.

Sherlock closed his eyes again, his heart pounded against his chest. A new enjoyable moan escaped him as he felt John’s lips on his collarbone. One hand lay next to him on the pillow, the other crawled the sheets.  
Exploring the body wasn’t just a phrase, he literally did it.   
John kissed every inch of Sherlock’s upper body, the left collarbone, along his shoulder, down to the popping arm veins and the fingers. After that, he kissed along Sherlock’s hip, across the flat stomach, upwards to the slightly haired chest and to the right collarbone. And the procedure begun again. Soft, wet kisses along his shoulder, to the pooping arm veins, to the long fingers, to his hip, the stomach upwards to his chest.   
Sherlock was already a shaking mess beneath him, and John hadn’t even started. Nevertheless, Sherlock was shaking, his mouth slightly open, the eyes closed; he pressed his tilted head into the pillow; his knees were slightly bent and as soft as pudding, and he pressed his heels into the mattress. The finger tugged the sheets; he melted literally away under John’s kisses.

John gave him a soft and firm kiss between the nipples.   
“Calm down, love. I’m not ready with you.”  
Sherlock couldn’t answer, his mind was out of order – completely. Even the loud moans and groans, purrs and sigh were a lot of effort; sometimes he just forgot how to make a sound.  
He enjoyed it with every fibre of his body.  
John’s nose rubbed across Sherlock’s sternum until the racing heart had calmed down a bit. 

The lips kissed one of Sherlock’s nipples, the tongue licked across it, draw circles around it and the teeth bit it gently, nibbled at it.  
Sherlock wanted to scream out John’s name, but his brain wasn’t able to manage more than a loud deep groan.   
John’s scratchy beard made it perfect – the touches were soft, as well as his lips and his hands and the mixture with the scratchy beard against his own hot and soft skin, was perfect. The perfect mixture of softness and roughness.  
It was fantastic to be touched like that, to be kissed and seduced like that. It was more than pleasurable, it was nearly overwhelming. From now until the end of days, he didn’t want to miss a day without such touches with hands, lips, a tongue and teeth.   
He felt loved.

Sherlock had goose bumps all over his body, he felt his twitching erection with every single touch from John.  
A last soft kiss was pressed at his chin, before John broke apart.  
“Sit up a bit sweetheart.” John smiled softly and ran his hand through Sherlock’s wild hair.   
Sherlock didn’t ask why, he just sat up a bit like John had told him to do.  
John smiled had him and kissed Sherlock’s lip one more time, before he crawled behind him.  
He sat on his knees and wrapped his arms around Sherlock, stroking his chest and stomach. 

Sherlock leaned his back against John, his head against John’s chest; his knees were bent and the legs spread open. He could feel John’s erection. He closed his eyes again and felt John’s soft lips, they kissed his right ear.  
“Are you alright?”  
“Hmm.”  
“Is there anything you really like during a handjob?” John asked softly.  
Sherlock shrugged his shoulders, tried to restart his brain, searching for the function to form words.  
“Don’t know.” He gasped, while John kissed his ear. “Always needed a long time and most of the time I wasn’t able to finish before I get frustrated and… you know, I wasn’t aroused anymore.” He admitted with just a whisper.  
It was embarrassing. 

John smiled against Sherlock’s ear and murmured softly.  
“Then we will find out what you like.”  
Sherlock turned his head around and John uses his change to smile widely at him and to involve him into a needy kiss.  
Sherlock moaned into the kiss, returned him with relish. He turned off his brain again. Just feeling was all he wanted now.

John’s hands wandered downwards. He enjoyed Sherlock’s hot and soft skin under his hands, and he had enjoyed it under his mouth, his tongue and his teeth.   
He broke the kiss gently, leaned his cheek against Sherlocks head and looked down as his hands reached the boxer brief.  
Through the fabric of the briefs one could see the wet spot.  
John licked his lips and freed Sherlock’s throbbing erection.   
A lot of precum on the tip of the hard cock.  
John ran his thumb over it.  
An animalistic sound came out of Sherlock and more precum out of his cock.

John’s thumb disappeared as well as his hand, he reached out to the bedside drawer and took the bottle of lube.  
Sherlock heard the clicking sound, he knew what it was, but he had never used it, probably a thing, why his wanks hasn’t worked that well.  
The next deep and animalistic cry escaped his mouth, when he felt John’s wet hand around his prick. He pressed the head against John’s chest, his legs spread a bit more and the hips trusted upwards, instinctual searching for more friction and stimulation for his twitching and throbbing erection.   
He had given up all the control a long time ago, his brain was turned off and it was the best feeling he ever felt.  
No control, no thoughts, just feelings and trust.

John purred into Sherlock’s ear  
“God, you’re gorgeous, love.”  
He liked the feeling of Sherlock’s cock in his hand. His hand slid up and down softly, gently and slowly, with a little twist. His fingers tickled Sherlock’s balls. The thumb caressed soft circles on the tip. His lips kissed Sherlock’s ear, the tongue licked over it and the teeth nibbled at it.  
“Jesus, honey… you feel so good in my hand, and I just can’t let my mouth off you.” John groaned hoarsely in Sherlock’s ear.

Sherlock gasped after John’s words. He was out of breath, his whole body covered with a thin film of sweat. He moaned, groaned, purred and sighed constantly. He rolled his eyes, behind closed lids, saw little stars. His hips tried to find a rhythm with John’s movements. And he tilted his head to give John more access to his ear and neck.  
His hands grabbed the sheets beside him, his heels were pressed into the mattress, his knees and legs were shaking.  
He had never felt such a pleasure, joy and relish before.  
He tugged the sheets even harder, when John’s thumb rubbed over his tip with a lot of pressure. Even his strokes became a bit faster, with more pressure and twists, and fingers, which tickled and massaged his balls more sensitive.   
And then, there was a second hand. A second hand, which was just there to tickle and massage his balls. A hand with a forefinger, which caressed softly and carefully around his tight hole. His other hand stroked his throbbing prick harder and the thumb rubbed and teased with more intensity.

John’s soft and warm voice murmured lovely things into his ear.  
“I love you sweetheart, you’re gorgeous and absolutely handsome.” He kissed his ear. “Just let go, love. Just let go. I’ve got you. I’m here.” He murmured with his warm and loving voice.   
Sherlock panted heavily, he was more than close. His eyes fluttered open for a moment, he wanted to watch John’s skilled hands.

It was too much.   
John’s lovely voice in his ear, his kisses, his cuddle, the beard, which scratched over his cheek and let his skin tingle. It was too much, to watch John’s hands, to feel them stroke up and down his full length; a thumb, which rubbed across the head of his cock; fingers, which massaged his balls, and a finger that circled around his puckering hole.

He lost it completely.   
He pressed the back of his head against John’s chest, his eyes fluttered shut, his mouth hung open, his hands grabbed the sheets as hard as they could, his hips trusted upwards, the knees and legs were trembling and he pressed his heels into the mattress. He could feel the warm and nice feeling in his stomach, the tingling on his skin. He could feel the orgasm that rolled through his body.  
“JohnJohnJohn… Oh my god. John!” He moaned and groaned deeply and loudly and with pure relish.  
He came all over John’s hand, his stomach and his chest.  
He enjoyed every feeling in his body during the orgasm, every wave, every heartbeat, every tingling on his skin and in his stomach.   
It was pure pleasure.  
And John sent him with slow and gentle strokes on his cock, and caresses and kisses with his mouth, and nudges with the nose, through his orgasm.  
Sherlock's whole body trembled, he had never felt that relaxed before.

John kissed his ear and rubbed his nose over Sherlock’s temple afterwards. His hands disappeared slowly. He kissed Sherlocks head, while he grabbed some tissues out of the bedside drawer.  
Sherlock sank with his whole weight against John. He took a deep breath, tried to calm down his fast heartbeat.  
John cleaned up his hand and with new tissues he cleaned up Sherlock – softly. 

Sherlock’s eyes fluttered open and then he felt a big hug. John hugged him tightly, kissed his hair.  
“Are you feeling comfortable, sweetheart?” John murmured into Sherlock’s hair.  
“Never felt better, I suppose.” He smiled, and his legs slid onto the mattress. “That… Jesus, that was great, it felt just… I can’t put it into words. I think, I won’t survive sex with you. I nearly freaked out, just because of a handjob.”  
John chuckled softly.  
“I think you will survive sex with me, love. I mean it was the first time, that someone else touched you like that, that you felt like that. It’s just an overwhelming feeling.” John said softly and kissed Sherlock’s head again. “I’m glad that you enjoyed it that much. I hadn’t thought that you can turn off your brain.”  
“It was off the minute you started kissing my whole body. I couldn’t even remember how to form proper words.” Sherlock smiled. He turned his head around to John.  
“Oh you with your sexy voice don’t need to form proper words, your deep moans and groans are excellent and fucking hot, as well as these animalistic noises.” John winked.  
Sherlock’s cheek flushed.  
John smirked lovingly.  
“It’s all fine, love. No need to flush or to get shy again. I loved to hear you like that, and I like to see you after an orgasm. Your facial expression is amazing. You never looked more relaxed, comfortable, relished and happy.”

Sherlock blinked a few times and stretched his head up to John, who bent down a bit. Sherlock kissed him with one closed mouth kiss, a loving and tender one. And after that John could feel Sherlock’s lips moving on his own, while Sherlock was talking.  
“I… can feel your arousal… and… and I would like to return the favour. And I would love to see John Watson during sex and I would love to hear his sounds and noises and words. May I?”

John’s mouth was dry immediately.  
His head was buzzing.  
He blinked.  
He licked his lips.  
His heart raced like mad.  
His stomach tingled  
His whole body tingled.  
His cock twitched and throbbed in pure pleasure, just by the thought of Sherlock, giving him a handjob.  
And he could feel more precum that dropped into his boxer briefs.  
A fantasy would come true.


	28. A fantasy come true

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock fulfill John's fantasy.

_Friday/Saturday night, Potters Bar, John’s bedroom_

John couldn’t think straight, just the thought of the next minutes, just the thought of Sherlock touching him was too much.  
He slid next to Sherlock and laid down next to him; he turned to his side, to face Sherlock.  
Sherlock slid deeper into the bed, he turned to John and his forefinger just caressed across John’s bearded cheek, the neck, the collarbone, the shoulder, the arm, down to the fingers.  
John closed his eyes with a relish sigh, goose bumps spread all over his body.   
Sherlock’s finger breathed down to John’s hip, on the little belly; the forefinger wandered upwards to John’s chest and he circled around both nipples.  
“Jesus!” John gasped.   
He was more than horny. He had waited so long for that to happen, and now it was just overwhelming and more than welcome. Every single touch, every small touch, every slightest, breathy touch was more than welcome.

John could feel Sherlock’s forefinger on his bare and hot skin. His mouth stood slightly open and he purred like a cat, as Sherlock’s forefinger wandered upwards.  
Sherlock watched John with a soft smile. He couldn’t believe that John purred and sighed like that, because of his touches. It was great to hear it, it was great to see him like that, and it made him a more secure about that whole thing, about his touches and movements.  
Sherlock’s finger slipped into John’s boxer brief waistband.   
And John gasped for air.  
“God Sherlock.” He turned to his back.

Sherlock leaned on his elbow, he watched John, who was panting, after these little touches. His finger slipped out of the boxer brief and he laid his hand on the fabric to shove the boxer brief downwards. John helped him with one hand and together they shoved down the shorts; and John wiped them off with his feet. He opened his eyes, looked at Sherlock with sensual, dilated, black eyes.   
Sherlock bowed his head and stroked with his hand softly across John’s belly and his chest.  
“I... what, what do you like?” Sherlock asked shyly.  
“I like a lot of things, love. Just... just touch me tonight. I don’t care where you touch me, just do it. And don’t you dare, to keep your hands off me... never again.” He reached out to Sherlock’s cheek. “You can’t do something wrong, honey. Just do what you would like to feel on your own body. I will say something, if I don’t like it. You’re such a lovely and tender man, just show it to me with your touches and kisses.” John said softly.  
Sherlock bent down a bit, and John’s hand ran into Sherlock’s soft hair.  
“I’m nervous.” Sherlock admitted.  
John smiled warmly and lovingly.  
“It’s okay to be nervous... but you don’t have to. What you did was amazing, I think you heard my purrs and sighs and you will hear them the whole time, because it’s great what you’re doing with your soft and beautiful hands and fingers. And not to forget your lips... do you think you could show me what an awesome kisser you are?” John asked.

Sherlock needed to smile, he has enjoyed John’s compliments and his soft and lovely words. He bent down a bit more and they both closed their eyes slowly. Sherlock’s lips kissed John tenderly. They had kissed so much in the last week, that he knew exactly what John liked and loved, He was able to kiss him senseless, but that wasn’t necessary, John was already melting away. Nevertheless, he kissed him senseless; he sucked on John’s lower lip, he bit that lip, he licked at it, and John granted him entrance with a moan. Sherlock had the control over that kiss, John had let go, he trusted Sherlock unconditionally.   
Their tongues danced and played with each other, they explored each other in a really tender and gentle way, as if they would explore each other for the first time.   
John’s heart pounded against his chest, his stomach tingled immensely. His hand tugged at Sherlock’s hair.

A hand wandered John’s body upwards, slowly; a thumb rubbed across his nipples, let him moan and groan into the kiss. The hand wandered further downwards, across his belly.  
And then he felt Sherlock’s hand on his erection, Sherlock’s hand cupped his throbbing cock.  
He needed to break the kiss, he moaned loudly and needy.  
“Oh God, it’s great!” He gasped.   
Sherlock didn’t even need to use lube, there was so much precum, that he could spread across John’s prick.  
John bent his left knee and pressed his heel into the mattress. His hand still tugged at Sherlock’s hair, the other one, made a fist.

Sherlock did the same John did, at least at the beginning. It was a new feeling, to have someone’s cock in the hand, but he felt comfortable, absolutely comfortable, and John’s facial expressions and his purrs, moans and groans, which were filled with pure joy, relish and pleasure, let him feel cozy and sure about it. His thumb rubbed softly across John’s tip a few times, before he gently stroked his full length down, with a soft twist and a soft pressure.   
He just did what came to his mind and he just reacted to John’s moans and groans, to the purrs and sighs, to the body reactions.  
He nudged at John’s ear, kissed it, licked across his beard, along his neck and jaw and kissed John’s chin.  
"Fuck fuck... bloody hell Sherlock.” John moaned loudly. He didn’t know which sensation was better, both were overwhelming. 

He had thought, that Sherlock maybe would be a bit too shy, that he would need more words of comfort, but which each sound out of his mouth, Sherlock got more confident and he was bloody skilled with his mouth and his hands.  
John’s hand clawed into Sherlock’s hair, his leg which was bent, was shaking.  
Sherlock’s hand stroked him more intense, from the tip to his balls, cupped them, played with them.  
“Jesus fucking Christ, that’s a million times better than all my fantasies about you together. It’s awesome, love.” He breathed heavily.  
“It’s great to hear you like that and to see you like that. I love it... and I love you, hun.” Sherlock whispered with a deep and rough voice – right into John’s ear.  
“Oh fuck... your voice.” John said with admiration and melted away.

Sherlock smiled and took it to his mind palace.  
John Watson, obsessed with his voice.  
His forefinger slid further down, between John’s buttocks. He wanted to try the thing John did to him. His finger was wet with precum and he circled around John’s puckering hole.   
An animalistic sound escaped John’s mouth and his hips trusted to Sherlock’s finger. And Sherlock did the right thing, instinctual; he rubbed his finger across John’s hole.  
“Fuck, I’m close. Do that again, please. Sherlock, please.” John begged.  
Sherlock rubbed again softly across John’s entrance, a few times, while he sucked tenderly on John’s neck.

John moved his hips and clung into the bed sheets and Sherlock’s hair for dear life.   
“Oh good, Sherlock, that’s perfect.” He moaned loudly.  
He loved that sucking on his neck, Sherlock’s lips, that wet spot, and he loved what Sherlock’s fingers did.

And as he felt Sherlock’s hand around his throbbing cock again, which stroked upwards, with pressure and a soft twist, he saw stars behind his eyes. He felt, the orgasm, which ran through his whole body, he couldn’t hold back, not a second longer.  
He spread his semen all over Sherlock’s hand, his own stomach and his own chest. He panted like mad, loosened the grip on Sherlock’s hair and on the bed sheet.   
And Sherlock stroked him through his orgasm, slowly and tenderly.  
“SherlockSherlock... god, that was amazing.” He panted, and felt Sherlock’s nose rubbing across his neck. John purred. “Hmmm, that’s nice.”   
Sherlock smiled against his neck. He felt great too, to be the one, who had given John this pleasure, who had made him moan like that and to be the one, who had made John look like that.

John opened his eyes slowly, turned his head a bit to Sherlock and smiled softly.  
“Hey, love... ” He murmured. “Do you need a tissue, or do you fancy a shower with me?”  
“It could be, that I made you a love bite.” Sherlock smiled with a little grin. “Shower with you, darling.”  
John grinned.  
“I think we both know that there is actually a love bite on my neck.”  
“Yeah, we both know that.” Sherlock chuckled softly.  
John grinned and stretched his head to his lips. He kissed him softly.  
“Let’s go, love. We cuddle afterwards.” John winked.  
Sherlock smiled and nodded.

They both stood up and made their way to the bathroom.   
John turned on the shower, he waited a short time, until warm water was raining down.  
He took Sherlock’s hand with a soft smile and stepped under the shower with him.   
The water rained down to them, they closed their eyes for a moment, until they were completely wet. 

John wrapped his arms around Sherlock and kissed his chest. He looked up to him.  
“Are you feeling good?” John asked gently.  
Sherlock smiled down to John.  
“Yes, I’m feeling good. I really loved it... your caresses and kisses and your... handjob, as well as to give you that pleasure and to hear your words and noises and to see you in ecstasy and relish. I felt really comfortable, John.” Sherlock revealed with a warm voice.  
“That’s really good to hear. It’s the same for me. I really loved what you did with me, with your lips and your hand.” John kissed Sherlock’s chin. “I’m obsessed with your lips and your hand... and with your voice. It’s fucking hot to hear you talk... but to hear you moan, is... I don’t know, it’s incredibly hot, it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever heard in my life.”  
“Shut up, darling. It makes me blush.” Sherlock admitted with a smile.  
He wrapped his arms around John’s neck and pulled him into a soft and tight hug.

John smirked softly and kissed Sherlock’s collar bone in that position.  
“It’s cute when you’re shy and when you have flushed cheeks.” John murmured against Sherlock's collarbone.  
“I told you to shut up.” Sherlock chuckled and pulled him even closer.  
John said something, but one couldn’t hear what it was, it was just a mumble. Sherlock hugged him so close, that John was pressed with his mouth against Sherlock’s collar bone, and every word was suppressed.  
John laughed against Sherlock’s skin and Sherlock, injected by John’s laughing trembling body, laughed as well – deep and truthful. And he loosened the hug.

They both laughed heartily.  
“What have you said?” Sherlock grinned widely.  
“Cutie, cutie, cutie.” John laughed.  
“That’s a very clever sentence, John.” Sherlock laughed.  
“I’m not in the mood to be smart and clever now. I’m happy and sleepy.” John smirked.  
Sherlock grinned and kissed John’s temple.  
“Me too. Let’s wash and then we go back to bed. I would... I would love to cuddle with you.”  
John smiled and bowed his head.  
“I would love that too, Sherlock.” John said with a warm voice.  
Sherlock smiled fondly.

They washed their bodies briefly, left the shower, dried themselves a bit and went to the bed again.   
Naked.  
Sherlock slipped closer to John, when he laid down. He wrapped his arms around John.  
John turned his head around to Sherlock. They lay on their sides, John in front of Sherlock.  
Sherlock smiled, shared a last soft kiss on the lips with John. And then he pressed his chest and the rest of his body against John’s back; he shoved a leg between John’s and pressed his face into John’s soft, grey hair.  
John purred, turn off the bedside lamp and laid his hand’s on Sherlock’s arms, which hold him in a safe and protective hug.

“I love you!” Sherlock mumbled clearly and secure into John’s hair.  
Goose bumps spread across John’s whole body, he needed to clear his throat.  
“I love you too, hun.” John mumbled.

It was always great to hear it from Sherlock in such a sure voice.

To be loved by John and to be his boyfriend was great, Sherlock thought - before drifted into his sleep, with the feeling of John’s caressing fingertips on his arms.


	29. A morning of relish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is awake and want to be awake as well.

_Saturday morning, Potters Bar, John’s bedroom, under the blanket_

The sun beamed into one of the windows in John’s bedroom. It was open, and the fresh morning air flooded into the bedroom. Last night, when Sherlock had woken up, he had opened it, because it was a bit too hot and sticky in John’s room. After that, he had slipped under the blankets again; he had spooned again, had taken John into a protective hug, so no one would be able to hurt him or to take that small, handsome man, from him – from Sherlock.  
He wouldn’t let him go, again. Never. And he would do all he could, to make John feel loved, so that ‘breaking- up-with-Sherlock’, will never cross his smart doctor mind, not for a millisecond.

Sherlock was the first one, who was awake in the morning and he couldn’t resist John’s bare skin in front of him. He kissed along his shoulder to his nape.  
Two things crossed his minds, when his lips met John’s hot and soft skin.  
Wake John up.  
Let John sleep.

It was sweet to hear his low snoring, to see the small body, whose rib cage rose and fell smoothly. But, Jesus, the things John had done last night had felt too good. He wanted and needed to feel John’s lips and hands all over his body. He wanted and needed that amazing feeling of an orgasm again. He wanted to give John that pleasure again, to hear him making such filthy noises, to see his moaning face, to see his orgasm face.  
He felt a bit bad, but he would kiss him awake, now – immediately.  
As he had made his decision he felt his heartbeat raising like mad. From zero to hundred, his heart pounded like mad against his chest. 

He buried his face into John’s hair, kissed it and inhaled the pleasant smell. One of his arms held John close, the other one stroked across his upper body. The hand was trembling, more and more, the nearer he came John’s penis.  
His fingertips ran through the pubic hair and reached with a breathy touch the beginning of John’s cock.   
He buried his face into John’s nape, kissed him, with sloppy kisses. His cheeks were red, as well as his ears.

John, in front of him, made an enjoyable, sleepy sound. He felt Sherlock’s finger, his kisses, his protective hug.  
“Sherlock.” He said in a low whisper; he was still more asleep than awake.  
Sherlock loosened the hug and turned John on his back. He needed to start, what he wanted to do, before he lost the bit of confidence he has at the moment.  
John opened one eye, but closed it again, immediately. It was too bright in the room.   
“Sherlock... what’s up, love? Why are you waking me up. Back to sleep, tired... ” John murmured and yawned.  
“I need you.” Sherlock stated with a soft voice. He kissed John’s lips.  
“Hmm? What?” John mumbled into the kiss, with his sleepy, low voice.

Sherlock didn’t answer. He would show him.  
He kissed John’s lips again – tenderly. John was too slow to return it. And after the little kiss on John’s lips, Sherlock explored John’s whole body with his lips.   
At first he rubbed his clean shaven cheeks across the bearded and scratchy cheeks of John. And then he dedicated himself to John’s neck, with the love bite on it. He sucked and licked and kissed tenderly – every inch. 

John purred sleepily and at the second, Sherlock kissed bravely his right nipple, John was only half asleep.  
He moaned a bit louder, enjoyed Sherlock’s lips on his nipples; the tongue which licked across them, and the teeth, which nudged at them.   
He felt his arousal in his stomach; and also his cock has noticed the teasing lips, teeth and tongue. His nipples were erected as well as his prick. But in a way it just felt like a lovely, awesome dream.

Sherlock was half covered under the blanket, his lips wandered downwards to John’s little tummy and his fingernails scratched along his inner thighs.  
John was wide awake, immediately. Sherlock kissed bravely more and more down his body.  
John looked down to Sherlock, who lay between his spread legs, kissing downwards to his cock. And just to see Sherlock like that and thinking about the thing he seems to do in a couple of moments, his cock throbbed and twitched. He felt the precum.  
“You... you, Jesus, love... Sherlock, you, you didn’t need to do that.” John stammered.  
“I want to.” Sherlock mumbled against John’s belly. “Don’t you like that?”  
“No, no. I love blowjobs, I love them really much.” He ran his hand into Sherlock’s soft and dark hair. “I would really love to see and feel you, giving me one. Are you sure about that? You really don’t have to, honey. Or are we confident after the night?”

Sherlock buried his face into John’s tummy.  
“I’m not sure. I’m nervous, much more than last night. But I will do it anyway... it’s not that I’m feeling uncomfortable, I’m just incredibly nervous. And I’m a bit confident... the rest of me is shy.”  
John’s hand ran again through Sherlock’s hair, softly and gently.  
“I love that mixture... it’s hot.” He supported his body on his elbows and looked down to Sherlock. ”I’m shutting up now, I don’t want to spoil what you wanted to do. Keep... Keep going, love.” John said with a warm voice. 

Sherlock stayed in that position a few moments, tried to calm down his heartbeat.   
Then he kissed John’s belly again. John loved blowjobs, so Sherlock tried to get over his nervousness. There was a first time for all things, and that would be his first time giving a blowjob.  
He kissed down to John’s pubic hair, and his fingernails breathed across John’s inner thighs. He noticed that John spread and bent his legs, and he moaned from the kisses and the caresses.  
Sherlock raised his head, he looked to John, who looked down at him.   
His eyes were half closed, but observed Sherlocks movements, they were black seas, and he looked absolutely delighted. His mouth hung slightly open and he licked his lips.

Sherlock swallowed by his sight and bent his head down to John’s cock. He just licked the precum away. It tasted musky, a bit bitter; it was an unexpected taste, but nothing he wouldn’t get comfortable with.   
John moaned loudly.  
Sherlock licked again across the tip of John’s hard prick, across the slit. And John moaned again.

He kissed John’s tip, upwards, his full length. He licked the cock with breathy touches. And he tried to make it perfect.  
John watched him. He had got a few blowjobs from different men, since he knew Sherlock. And he had loved it, to see a dark-curly-haired man kneeling in front of him, sucking on his cock and balls, maybe rimming or fingering him in the meantime. He had always imagined it would be Sherlock. Now it was Sherlock, finally. And it felt great, but he wouldn’t come from this. Sherlock was thinking too much, he could feel it.  
His hand stroked softly through Sherlock’s hair.  
“Love, you’re thinking too much. It feels nice... but... sweetheart, just turn off your mind and make it instinctual. Trust me, hun. Turn off your mind. Sex is about feeling, not about thinking.” He said it lovingly, and played with Sherlock’s strands, before he supported his body on his two elbows again.

Sherlock took a deep breath. He couldn’t decide if John’s words made him more confident or more insecure. Nevertheless, he decided to do what John has said. Turning off his mind, feeling it.  
And he switched off his mind.

John tilted his head back, moaned and groaned loudly as he felt Sherlock’s lovely and luscious lips around his throbbing cock.   
Sherlock sucked on his cock, with his perfect lips, his tongue swirled around and he swallowed slowly more and more of John’s prick.   
John gasped and a new wave of precum dribbled into Sherlock’s mouth.  
“Oh God. That’s great, love. Jesus, that’s awesome.” John moaned.  
His gaze wandered to Sherlock, he watched him and the sight was more than hot. 

Sherlocks head rose and fell; the sloppy, wet sound was music in John’s ears, and every time his cock popped free and Sherlock took it again into his mouth, Sherlock swallowed more of his cock.   
Jesus, Sherlock was deep throating him; he was deep throating his thick cock, and he seemed to enjoy to give it, as much as John enjoyed it to receive it.   
It was a lot effort to hold back with any thrusts of his hips.   
“Fuck Sherlock.” John panted and took a few deep breathes. “God, I would love to fuck into your perfect, luscious mouth.” John said deep and hoarsely.

Sherlock moaned because of John’s hot and filthy words, and it made his cock twitch as well. And the vibrating of Sherlock's moan on his cock, made John moan and purr with relish and joy.  
Sherlock was aroused, his cock was fully erect, precum dribbled from his tip onto the sheets. He loved the taste of John’s cock, he loved to give that to John, to hear him and to know that John watched him and was turned on by that.  
John’s prick popped out of Sherlock’s mouth, the tongue licked down to John’s balls. He licked, and sucked and kissed them. His fingers scratched to John’s butt. He used the precum, that drooled down from John’s tip, to make his finger wet. And then he circled with it around John’s hole and rubbed across it, while he was sucking on John’s balls.

John almost lost his self control. It had been unexpected, and not just to feel it, but also to watch it, was extremely hot.  
Sherlock was absolutely skilled, and he didn’t even make all the things he could do or all the other things John really liked during a blowjob.   
Nudging; scratching with the teeth; thrusting into the giver’s mouth; rimming; sucking him senseless on his tip; teasing.  
He loved to beg and to not get it.  
He loved to beg and to get it.  
He will not survive handjobs, blowjobs and sex with Sherlock, when Sherlock will have a bit more experiences in a few days or weeks.  
It will be his death.

“God! Fuck Sherlock! Your mouth is fucking perfect.” He groaned, and tugged the sheets.  
There was just a soft moan from Sherlock, then he licked John’s balls and full length upwards again. He rubbed his tongue across John’s tip and took the cock into his mouth again – swallowed it all the way down.  
John cried Sherlock’s name out loud. 

Sherlock’s forefinger slipped into John’s puckering hole – just the tip. John was sure, he didn’t want to tease him, he just didn’t feel secure enough for this – but fucking hell, it felt like teasing.   
His cock got even harder.  
John cried Sherlock’s name out loud – again.  
Sherlock’s tip of his forefinger in his arse was an almost unbearable tease.   
“Sherlock! I can’t... I can’t hold back any longer.” He moaned. Sherlock sucked enjoyable on John’s cock, his tongue swirled around in a teasing and naughty way. “I need to come... you... you don’t have to finish me, that... that way.” He gasped and panted.

Sherlock didn’t let go. His fingertip in John’s arse caressed with pressure, his lips and tongue sucked on John’s twitching cock, and his other hand pressed softly John’s hip.  
John took that as his sign, that it would be okay to cum.  
He didn’t take his eyes off Sherlock, it turned him on – extremely. His lips were parted, his tongue licked across his lower lip.  
He couldn’t hold back; he felt Sherlock’s throat against his tip and the thought of that he hadn’t even gagged once, made him cum really hard. 

The orgasm ran through his body, through every vein and fibre; from the hair-ends, down to the feet.   
The tiptoes rolled up, the hands tugged the bed sheets, he arched his back, goose bumps spread over his whole body, and his puckering hole clenched around Sherlock’s fingertip – in relish and pleasure.  
“Oh fuck! Sherlock! Keep going, please, keep going, love.” He moaned hoarsely.  
His semen shot into Sherlock’s mouth, and between the waves of cum, Sherlock swallowed.

He swallowed all, it tasted different from the beginning, but as new as this whole situation was, he enjoyed John’s orgasm and the taste of him.  
He licked him clean, he licked over every inch of John’s cock.  
His tongue ran across John’s tip, one last time.  
And then he kissed the tip.

John sank onto the mattress, he panted and gasped and sweated. His legs slid down onto the sheets.  
Sherlock crawled over John, he supported his hands next to John’s head and looked down at him.  
John’s face was read and hot; his hair was wet from sweating.   
Sherlock’s cheeks were red, his ears as well. He licked his lips, his eyes were shy.  
“God.” John panted. “Look at you... the shy guy again, licked his luscious, perfect lips.” John murmured in a deep voice. He reached out his hand and laid it on Sherlock’s cheek. “Kiss me, sweetheart.”

Sherlock flushed even more.  
He hesitated for a moment, bent down to John and kissed his 10-days-beard a few times, with soft, little pecks. After that, he cupped John’s lips and kissed him properly.

John could taste himself on Sherlock’s lips and in his mouth.  
Sherlock could feel John’s grabbing hand on his naked buttocks and his own, with precum, leaking cock.


	30. Shaking body

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock's body is shaking like mad.

_Saturday morning, Potters Bar, John’s bedroom, above the blanket_

John’s hand lay on Sherlock’s buttocks, or to be precise, the hands grabbed Sherlock's butt; he massaged his butt and Sherlock moaned into their kiss,  
John’s hands stroked from the butt, to the hips, to Sherlock’s back, upwards to his shoulder blades; he pressed Sherlock down on his own naked body.  
He let Sherlock’s lips free, purred with relish, when he felt Sherlock’s naked and warm skin on his own.  
His hands caressed into Sherlock’s hair and he rolled with Sherlock on top of him through the bed, until he was lying on Sherlock.

Sherlock opened his eyes. The grey-greenish eyes looked deeply in two azure-blueish eyes. He got lost in them, felt and heard his own heartbeat, felt his tingling stomach, the tingle all over his body, the goose bumps, and his throbbing and leaking cock.  
John winked at him after a few silent moments.  
He bent down, kissed Sherlock’s forehead, his nose, his cheekbones. He rubbed across Sherlock’s cheeks with his beard, which made Sherlock purr, sigh and shiver.  
John smiled, he gave Sherlock’s ear a wet kiss and purred into Sherlock’s ear.  
“May I explore your body, like you explored mine?”  
Sherlock shivered again, he nodded slowly, felt a second wet kiss on his ear.

John’s tongue licked across Sherlock’s ear, along his jaw, over his chin to his Adam’s Apple – and there he sucked gently. He took his hands out of Sherlock’s hair and laid them on Sherlock’s shoulders. He heard him purr, sigh, moan and groan, and he felt Sherlock’s hands, which already tugged at his grey sandy-blonde hair.  
His lips went further down, to the flat and slightly muscly chest. He kissed his sternum softly, licked to the right nipple and sucked on it; but not only that, he sucked, he licked, he kissed and he bit – until Sherlock was whimpering beneath him.  
Sherlock begged with a low and shy voice for more.  
And John gave it to him – at least, he gave it to Sherlock’s left nipple.  
The tongue circled around the erect, pink nipple, licked over it, his breath blew cold air across the nipple. His lips, kissed it, sucked at it; and his teeth, nudged gently and softly at it – until Sherlock begged again for more than that.

But the further down John kissed and licked, the more Sherlock got nervous. He was a whimpering, shaking mess beneath John.  
A nervous, whimpering, shaking mess.  
His hands still clawed in John’s hair strands.  
And when he felt John’s lips, kissing his dark, pubic hair, his heart freaked out.  
“Oh my god, John!” He blurted out with a long moan.  
John took his lips off of him. He raised his head and looked to Sherlock.  
Sherlock didn’t watch; his head was pressed into the pillow, tilted back; the mouth hung open, the tongue licked his lips; his eyes were closed. And he panted and gasped, moaned and groaned, and purred and sighed.

John’s hands lay on Sherlock’s stomach and slid to his hips.  
“Do you want me to stop, love? Is it too much?” John asked with a purring voice.  
“Yes... no, no... um I don’t know.” Sherlock gasped. He could still feel John’s lips on his Adam’s apple, his nipples, his stomach and his crotch. “Nervous, don’t stop, please don’t stop.” He calmed down a bit, let his hand’s in John’s hair. “It’s more... than just a hand... ” Sherlock mumbled.  
“Yes, love.” John smiled, and kissed with soft lips Sherlock’s tip. “These are my lips.” John stated.  
“John!” Sherlock gasped in a loud moan, when he felt John’s lips and his cock.  
“May I, Sherlock? Do you let me kiss, lick, nudge and suck your lovely cock?” he licked with just a breath across Sherlock’s tip – licked a bit of the precum away.  
Sherlock held on for dear life, at John’s hair.  
“Ye... Yes... ” The shaking body beneath John stuttered.

There was a moment of silence between John and Sherlock.  
One could hear the singing birds, the rustling in the trees and Sherlock’s panting.  
His heavy breath was the only human sound for a few moments.

John smiled and watched him. His thumbs caressed Sherlock’s hip - then he lowered his head again. And from that point, he heard is name like a mantra out of Sherlock’s mouth.  
John with a purr.  
John with a sigh.  
John with a moan  
John with a groan.  
A short John, a long John, a fast one, a slow one.  
A John while he was gasping, a John while he was taking breath again.  
A John in relish, in pleasure, in joy.  
A begging John.

And these Johns were music in John’s ears.

John’s tongue licked across Sherlock’s tip, he licked with pressure, licked the precum away. He licked over his lips, enjoyed Sherlock’s taste. His tongue licked along Sherlock’s full length, from tip to the balls, and his lips kissed him from the balls to his tip.  
And then his lips cupped Sherlock’s tip. He nudged softly, let his tongue twirl and lick, and his lips suck. Just the tip, just teasing touches.

Sherlock spread his legs, during his John-mantra, he spread them and he bent them, pressed his heels into the mattress, and his hands ran hastily and wildly through John’s hair. His head was pressed into the pillow, his eyes were closed, his mind was out of order, and his whole body shaking like mad.  
It was overwhelming.  
He didn’t want, that John goes further.  
He didn’t want that John stops that blowjob.  
The moans, the groans and his John-mantra were loud. And his ears and cheeks as flushed as possible.

John enjoyed these sounds, his name, Sherlock’s taste, the hands in his hair. He sucked Sherlock’s twitching prick into his mouth, and he had enough experience to suck his full length down to his throat. His tongue swirled around, his teeth scratched softly across the soft skin of Sherlock’s cock, every time, Sherlock’s cock popped out of his mouth. And after that he sucked him deep down again.  
Sherlock’s hips thrust upwards, he had wanted to hold himself back, but he hadn’t been able to do that.  
John moaned in relish around Sherlock’s cock, before Sherlock could form a Sorry.  
He swallowed Sherlock’s precum.  
And Sherlock took the obvious invitation, to trust again into John’s mouth.  
John moaned again - with pure pleasure and relish. And the vibrating on his cock, let Sherlock trust a few times into John’s mouth, who obviously seemed to enjoy that sensation as much as Sherlock. Every trust gave Sherlock a deep vibration from John’s moan.

When Sherlock’s hips became still, John swirled his tongue upwards and freed Sherlock’s cock out of his mouth. He licked his lips.  
He didn’t give Sherlock a moment to breath.  
He licked the length down to the balls and sucked them, with the same joy and perfection as Sherlock’s cock.

John’s hand slid under Sherlock’s thighs, lifted them a bit and spread his buttocks. His tongue licked softly across Sherlock’s puckering hole.  
“Fuck! John.” Sherlock gasped with relish, and melted away. His hand clawed in John’s hair, tugged at them.  
And John’s tongue flicked across Sherlock’s entrance, made him moan and shake even more.  
Sherlock held on for dear life, it was such an overwhelming feeling, too much to bear, too much to stop John. He didn’t want to stop him, as overwhelming as it was, it was just too good, awesome, amazing.  
And when John licked into his hole, he began to beg for mercy.

“Oh god, John. John, please.” His voice trembled. “Please.”  
John’s tongue flicked out of his hole, his lips kissed him gently.  
“You’re begging, but for what?” John ask with a purring deep voice.  
His lips kissed his wet hole again.  
“God, I’m close... John, please... Don’t make me say it.” Sherlock’s shy voice trembled.  
“I know you’re pretty damn close, sweetheart.” He looked up to Sherlock. “Jesus, you look gorgeous, love. It’s all I ever wanted; you, naked, in my bed, moaning my name. You’re the one, I always wanted in my life; you, Sherlock, with your soft hair, your piercing-flashing eyes, your sharp cheekbones, your perfect mouth, your deep-beautiful voice, and your luscious butt.” John purred lustful. “What do you need? My tongue?” John purred, and his tongue licked with just a breathy touch across Sherlock’s hole.

Sherlock moaned loudly, almost screamed after that breathy touch. Just the words let him almost reach his climax.  
“No.” Sherlock trembled, and rolled his head from the left to the right, again and again.  
“Then you need a kiss?” John purred, and kissed Sherlock’s balls.  
“No.” Sherlock winced and whimpered.  
“Ohh... I think, I know what you want me to do with you.” John purred again, he let Sherlock’s thighs down. “You want me, to suck your cock down my throat.”  
“Oh God. Yes!” Sherlock cried out. “You... you just, you just need to talk about it again and I will come.”

“I rather suck your cock down my throat, than just talking about sucking your cock down my throat.” John moaned and cupped Sherlock’s cock with his lips.

Sherlock lost it completely, John’s words had pulled the trigger, he had felt his orgasm running through his body and as soon as John’s lips had cupped his cock, Sherlock’s cum shot into John’s mouth.  
John hadn’t even managed to suck his full length down his throat, when he felt and tasted Sherlock’s cum.  
Sherlock was coming even harder than John. He tugged at John’s hair; his back arched; he pressed his heels into the mattress and his head into the pillow. His eyes were closed, his brain still out of order; he sweated, he gasped and panted – and his whole body was shaking like mad.  
And John swallowed all of his cum, he licked and sucked him through his whole orgasm. 

Sherlock’s cock popped out of John’s mouth. His eyes fluttered open and he looked down to John.  
And John just licked his lips with pleasure and winked at him.  
Sherlock blinked a few times, swallowed.

John crawled over him, bent down and kissed his cheek tenderly. After that he looked into Sherlock’s face, to his flushed cheeks and his shy eyes.  
“Oh, are we shy again, sweetheart?” John smiled lovingly.  
Sherlock just nodded, his body was still shaking.  
“Are you feeling comfortable, love? Or is anything wrong?” John asked gently, and gave Sherlock a soft peck on the lips.  
“Just overwhelmed... ” Sherlock murmured.  
John smiled and winked again.

He crawled next to Sherlock.  
“Turn to your side, handsome.” John smiled.  
Sherlock looked at him and did it.  
And John hugged him, hugged him tightly around his chest, pressed Sherlock's back against his chest.  
His hug was; lovingly, tenderly, protectively, firmly.

Sherlock rolled into a ball in front of John, closed his eyes.  
He had given up his control again, trusted again, turned off his mind again – and it felt great.  
And now he would let his control in John’s hand and just feeling that he was loved and at home in John’s protective and tender hug.


	31. The first time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's their first time together.

_Saturday, morning, John’s bedroom_

The consulting detective and the doctor were lying in bed. John’s arms were still wrapped protectively around Sherlock’s chest, who was lying in front of him, still rolled into a ball. They hadn’t spoken for nearly an hour, they had just listened to the singing birds and the rustle of the trees outside. They had just listened to their low breathing.

John’s fingers caressed Sherlock’s chest, they crawled him softly and gently. The face of John was pressed into Sherlock’s hair, he enjoyed the softness of the single strands, the little curls, the smell. His foot played on his own with Sherlock’s foot, who hadn’t moved for almost an hour. John kissed gently the back of Sherlock’s head, rubbed his nose through Sherlock’s hair, and took a deep breath of the lovely smell. He sighed and purred in relish.   
His eyes were closed, and he loved the fact, that they had cuddled like this the whole time, without speaking. Words weren’t necessary at the moment, and it wasn’t uncomfortable not to speak with Sherlock. The opposite was the thruth, sometime he loved it to be in silence with Sherlock. And he had loved it more than three years ago. He had loved just to watch him, when he was fully into an experiment or in his mind palace. He loved the mixture, the mixture of no words and chatty Sherlock. 

John pressed him against his back, and kissed Sherlock’s nape, with a tender, little peck. He needed to break the silence, he needed to hear Sherlock’s gorgeous deep voice.  
“Love, are you sleeping?” John asked in a soft whisper.  
“No, John. I’m not.” Sherlock murmured. “I just enjoy your soft caresses... and your hug... and your skin against mine, and your heartbeat, your breath... “ He added in a low voice.  
John smiled into Sherlock’s nape.  
“Then, I will go on with all these things.”  
Sherlock nodded slightly.

One of John’s arms loosened the hug a bit and the hand wandered down to Sherlock’s flat stomach; the fingers crawled him lightly and with a breathy touch of the fingertips and fingernails.  
Sherlock purred, and to give John more access to his body, he stretched out his feet. He grabbed John’s hand on his chest softly, entwined their fingers.  
John squeezed his hand softly, and kissed Sherlock’s shoulder. The hot and soft skin felt perfect under his lips. 

Sherlock purred again.  
“I... I really like your beard. The tingling on my skin felt nice. It... felt nice... um, everywhere.” Sherlock said vaguely, had meant that John’s beard had felt amazing, during the blowjob.  
John smiled against his shoulder, kissed him again. His nose caressed the lace he had kissed, and the fingertips and fingernails still crawled Sherlock’s stomach. He could feel the goose bumps. And he could hear Sherlock’s purrs every now and then.  
“One day I have to shave, love.” John said softly. He had understood, what Sherlock had wanted to say,  
“But for me, you don’t have to shave often.” Sherlock mumbled.  
“That’s good, sometimes, I’m a bit lazy with it.” John smiled.  
“I don’t mind.”

John smiled and rubbed his bearded cheek across Sherlock’s shoulder, who moaned.  
John’s hand squeezed Sherlock’s again, kissed his nape and his neck. He bit into the pale skin.   
“God, I love to feel your skin on mine, I love it to kiss and caress and hug you, hun.” John purred, and kissed Sherlock’s neck again. His lips cupped the earlobe, sucked on it.

Sherlock moaned and purred again, he squeezed John’s hand as well. Every sensation on his body was amazing. He loved John’s foot, which was stroking along his leg. He loved to feel John’s crawling with the fingertips and the fingernails on his stomach. He loved to just hold his hand. He loved John’s kisses and the sucking on his earlobe. And he loved the scratching of John’s beard.  
His whole body tingled, and he felt the arousal coming back into every vein of his body.   
Until he was with John, he thought, that such intimate things weren’t important, that it would be transport - nothing more. But now, he thought something else about it. John had shown him, how good it was to feel touches, kisses, caresses, hot skin. He had shown him how good it was to feel an orgasm.  
John had given him the first properly orgasm; two orgasms, in the last few hours. And he had given John two orgasms as well.   
He wouldn’t mind a third one – now.

Sherlock’s earlobe slid out of John’s mouth, and he heard John’s warm and rough purr in his ear.  
“Do you mind, if we just stay in bed?”  
“It... would be very welcome.” Sherlock murmured shyly.  
John smirked softly. His hand on Sherlock’s stomach slid further down, through Sherlock’s pubic hair and the cock, which was half erected.   
Sherlock swallowed, he wanted to say an excuse, but before he could say anything, John just pressed him closer.  
“That’s exactly why I wanted to stay in bed, to enjoy more sex with you – immediately.” John purred. Sherlock’s heart pounded against his chest. “Do you want to try something else, maybe sex with me, I mean not just a blowjob or handjob? I would love to have sex with you, Sherlock.”

Sherlock swallowed again.  
“I... I don’t know if I’m ready for that. And if I would like that.” He mumbled in a shy voice. “And I don’t know, um... you know… “ He took a deep breath. “I mean your tongue felt great... but I don’t know if... ” He cut off his own babbling.  
John kissed his ear.  
“Calm down love.” He whispered in a smooth voice. “You don’t have to bottom, if you don’t want that. I love to bottom Sherlock, so we could do it that way. You would have the control.” John murmured softly.  
“But... but I don’t know what to do,... I don’t want to hurt you.” Sherlock said in an insecure voice.  
“I don’t want to talk you into it. I just want to say something - I trust you with my life, Sherlock; and I trust you with that, I really do. I would love to feel you inside me. It’s the same thing, like you did during the blowjob with your finger, just deeper. And you were absolutely softly and gently. You know... it’s just turning off your mind and feeling it. And I’m willing to lay the control and my trust into your hands.” John kissed Sherlock’s ear again. “I don’t know if you will like it, but we could try it, to find that out.” His forefinger caressed slightly over the soft skin of Sherlock’s cock.

Sherlock tried to calm down his heartbeat. John was right, in a way. But he was extremely nervous, and he didn’t want to hurt John in any way. He was afraid and on the other hand, he would love to feel it. He would love to have proper sex with John.  
John would lead him, he would take care of him, wouldn’t he?  
He would have the control and on top of that, John would give him all his trust.  
He was caught between doing it and not doing it.   
He wanted both.  
He was just absolutely insecure.

For a brief moment John pressed him in a protective hug again. He pressed him a kiss on his shoulder. And then, John turned him around on his back. He smiled down to him, with his most charming and loving smile. He winked.  
“You are struggling, sweetheart. So I will make the decision.” He smiled again, winked again. “Just turn your lovely and genius mind off, like you did it in the last few hours, my love. Explore my body and take everything in your mind palace. We can stop at every time.”  
And with that he laid down on his back and pulled Sherlock with him, who was now lying on John.  
“Come here, love... and kiss me.” John smiled, and wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s neck.  
Sherlock was happy that John took the lead, at least for the moment.  
He bent down and pressed his lips on John’s.  
John returned the kiss softly.

Their lips moved gently, carefully and slowly, but after a few brief moments, their kisses became more passionate. John sucked on Sherlock’s lower lip, bit and licked. And Sherlock granted him entry. Their tongues explored each other lovingly and passionately; they danced with each other, softly and tenderly; they danced with each other lusciously; and then they fight with each other, they fight for the lead and John gave it to Sherlock, when he felt that he got a bit more confident about the whole situation.  
John moaned into the kiss.  
And they broke apart as their lungs screamed for fresh air.  
They both panted, gasped and took a few deep breathes.

Sherlock looked down to John, he could feel John’s half erected cock. He couldn't resist, he needed to rub his own half erected cock against John’s.  
They both closed their eyes and moaned deeply.  
John’s hands slid down Sherlock back, and Sherlock rubbed their cocks against each other.  
Oh, that felt nice, Sherlock thought and moaned again, as well as John, who seemed to enjoy it.  
John moaned with Sherlock, he got harder and harder with each thrust of Sherlock’s hips and he could feel that Sherlock got harder as well. John wrapped his legs around Sherlock’s waist, pressed him closer. He pressed his fingers into Sherlock’s sides.  
Sherlock moaned, he rubbed their cocks against each other with pure pleasure.  
“God, John! I... I could come just with that.”  
“And you could make me come with that.” John moaned.  
The effort to stop his rubbing was huge. Sherlock almost didn’t manage it.

“I don’t want to make you come.” Sherlock panted. “Not... not with that.”  
There was a bit more confidence. John had said they could stop at every time, and he knew John would stop immediately, if he wouldn’t want it any longer. No matter how much he wants this, he wouldn’t push Sherlock into it. And with that knowledge Sherlock turned off his mind.

He bent down again and kissed his way over John’s neck, his shoulders and his collarbone.  
Johns legs slid down onto the mattress, he spread and bent them. And he moaned in pleasure. His hands stroked across Sherlock’s butt and his back, upwards, into his hair. His fingernails scratched Sherlock’s back of the head, then downwards again. He scratched across Sherlock’s spine, who moaned and purred, while he was kissing, biting and licking John’s upper body.

John’s hands trembled, as well as his legs. He was so horny for Sherlock, for Sherlock’s cock, or at least Sherlock’s finger in his arse. He wasn’t in the mood for that awesome teasing. His cock was hard as hell.  
“God, Sherlock, please...” He begged.   
He felt Sherlock’s hands, which stroked down John’s sides to his hips and his legs. He massaged John’s thighs, while he was kissing John’s belly with his luscious, perfect lips. He sucked John’s belly, made him a second love bite, the first one was on John’s neck.   
And he took every inch of John’s body unconsciously to his mind palace; how it feels, how it smells, how it tastes, and which sound or body reaction he got from John. Every detail went unconsciously into Sherlock’s mind palace, into John’s big room – it was already a little mind palace on his own.   
“Please, Sherlock... please.” John begged again.

Sherlock pressed a last kiss on John’s belly. He raised his head, looked to John.   
This time, John was the one, who pressed his head into the pillow, whose eyes were closed, whose mouth hung open in pure relish, whose hands ran hastily above Sherlock’s buttocks, back, into his hair.  
“I need the lube, didn’t I?” Sherlock asked.  
“Yeah... yeah, you will need it.”  
Sherlock watched him and then looked around.  
He grabbed the bottle, which was lying on the edge of the bed.  
“A bit into your hand, finger after finger.” John gave a short instruction.  
Sherlock opened the bottle with lube and pressed a bit into his hand.  
John has opened his eyes, he looked to Sherlock.  
“Rather a bit more, if you’re unsure, love.” John panted.  
Sherlock pressed lube into his hand again, then he spread it.

Their eyes locked. John smiled at him lovingly.  
“You will enjoy it, love. When I’m open for you, I promise, then you will enjoy it.” John said softly. “I love you Sherlock, I really do.” John said in his most warm and loving voice.   
“I... I love you too.” Sherlock said softly.  
John smiled.  
“Say it again.”  
Sherlock smiled  
“I love you, John.”  
John smiled.  
“Maybe... again?”  
Sherlock smiled widely, and to say that to John, and to see him smile, relaxed him immensely.  
“I love you, darling.”  
John beamed up to him.

Sherlock beamed as well. He bent down to John and kissed his belly again.  
John closed his eyes again.

And then he felt Sherlock’s finger between his buttocks, his forefinger, which stroked gently across the puckering hole. John moaned in relish.  
Sherlock’s finger slid slowly into John’s hole, and John moaned loudly.  
“Oh my God, Fuck, Sherlock!” His voice was filled with lust.

Sherlock moved his finger slowly in and out and John’s satisfied moans made him a bit more confident. It didn’t feel strange and he didn’t feel uncomfortable with that. It was just the fact, that he was afraid; afraid to do something wrong or things, which weren’t pleasurable for John. But John’s moans and purrs made him more sure and his begging voice brought him back, out of his mind palace.  
“Fuck, Sherlock, please, more. Another finger, love, please.” He begged with a moan.  
Sherlock had pressed a lot of lube into his hand earlier, so he let a second finger slid into John’s hole, who was more than pleased to feel the second one.

He moved his lips with Sherlock’s finger. It wasn’t perfect, nor the movements, nor the pressure, nor the speed, but it was enough for John. He had dreamed about it so often, and although, that this wasn’t perfect, it was much better than in his fantasies.  
And although, that this was the first time Sherlock did it, they found a rhythm - immediately.

Sherlock loved experiments, and so he tried different things. His two fingers explored John’s hole, slid in and out, stretched John’s hole.   
At some point, when John was moaning and groaning, he felt John’s fingernails ram in his shoulders.  
John moaned loudly.  
“Jesus, Sherlock! That’s it! Fuck.” He moved his hips more to Sherlock’s fingers, he wanted to feel his fingers rubbing against his prostate again. “God, that’s the best point.” John moaned.  
Sherlock has watched him the whole time, and now he rubbed his fingers over and over again, across that sensitive spot.

John’s eyes fluttered open, he licked his lips and swallowed.  
“Please, Sherlock, please. Fuck me. Please.” John begged.  
Sherlock looked down to him. He needed John, and he wanted to do that, he wanted to fuck him. But his shyness was back.  
John looked out of black eyes, his hands ran up into Sherlock’s hair.  
“We can switch places, and I can show you what I like and what it will feels like.”

John just rolled over, before Sherlock was able to say a word..  
Sherlock lay on his back, John was between his legs; and he took the bottle with lube into his hands. John smiled down, pressed some of the lube into his hand, he was more than ready. He knew Sherlock wanted that too, he was just to shy and afraid, to make the first step.  
“Relax, love. Everything is fine. I will ride you. We can switch, whenever you want, gorgeous.” John smiled.  
Sherlock looked up to him and nodded. These pet names, these lovely words and John’s calm voice relaxed him immensely.  
His eyes followed John’s hands.  
John cupped Sherlock’s erection, he stroked gently up and down, spread the lube over Sherlock’s throbbing erection.  
There was precum, and loud moans from Sherlock.

John sat up, he bent down to Sherlock and kissed his lips – softly. Sherlock returned his kiss and it relaxed him even more. And when John broke the kiss, he smiled up to him.  
“Oh my love.” John smiled, and kissed his cheek.

His bum hovered above Sherlock’s erection. He smiled at him and sat down slowly.  
Sherlock’s hard prick sunk into him, and both men moaned loudly at this sensation and friction.  
“Ohhh John!” Sherlock’s deep voice moaned.  
He laid his hands on John’s chest and stroked down to his belly.  
John moaned in pleasure, goose bumps spread over his whole body; his mouth hung slightly open and his eyes fluttered shut, when he felt Sherlock’s full length in his arse.  
“Jesus, you’re gorgeous.” John moaned.  
Sherlock’s eyes fluttered shut as well, his hands lay on John’s belly. 

Sherlock could barely hold back a thrust, and right before he thought he weren’t able to resist any longer, John began to ride him.   
Sherlock’s finger crawled into John’s tummy, while he was moaning loudly.  
John laid his hand above Sherlock’s, the other one ran into his own hair. He moaned and groaned as loudly as Sherlock.  
He rode him slow, gentle and loving. He needed much more, but he didn’t want to overwhelm Sherlock too much. He pressed his hand on Sherlock’s, his other hand ruffled his hair.

Sherlocks head was pressed into the pillow, he moaned in pleasure and relish with every thrust of John. The sensation and friction was amazing, and he wanted more of it. Instinctual, Sherlock searched with his thrusts a rhythm with John.  
And at that moment John lost all his self control. He had needed him so badly and now he has him; naked in his bed, moaning in pure relish – deep and animalistic, his cock in his arse and he was able to ride him, to fuck himself on Sherlock, on his gorgeous cock.  
He couldn’t hold back. He crawled Sherlock’s hand, his own hair, tilted his head back and moaned lustfully, as he rode Sherlock with passion.  
“Oh god, fuck, SherlockSherlock!”

“John. John... ohhh. John... can, can we switch...” Sherlock moaned deeply.  
“Yes, love.” John moaned.

But, for both of them it was an effort to stop their movements. They had ridden and fucked almost to their climax.  
John rolled over, pulled Sherlock with him. He wrapped his legs around Sherlock’s hips, immediately. And his hands, he laid on Sherlock’s buttocks.  
“Please, fuck me. Sherlock.” John groaned with a begging voice.  
“I will.” Sherlock moaned into John’s ear.   
He shoved an arm under John’s neck, and supported his body weight on the other hand, next to John. His lips kissed John’s neck, his nose breathed in John’s lovely smell. He enjoyed John’s body heat and his naked, soft skin on his own.

He sunk into him again – deep down.  
Their moans and groans mixed up with each other and they found their passionate rhythm, again.   
John’s hands crawled into Sherlock’s buttocks, held on for dear life. Sherlock sucked on John’s neck, between his deep and lustful moans.  
“I’m happy that I’ve waited for you.” Sherlock moaned into John’s ear.  
“Fuck, Sherlock. Don’t make me come by your words.” John moaned in pleasure. He pressed his fingernails into Sherlock’s buttocks. “No,... delete that... please make me come with your words. Now, god please, love, please.” John begged.  
He wouldn’t need any friction on his own cock, he was so close. The sensation of that moaning, fucking Sherlock was awesome.   
And on top, every thrust of Sherlock hit his prostate.   
He thought he would pass out every moment. It was the best sex, ever.   
His detective wasn’t just skilled with his mind. 

Sherlock bit him into his neck, he had noticed that John loved that, and Sherlock loved the moans he got from that.   
“I’m glad, that you’re the first one, John.” Sherlock moaned in pleasure. “And you will be the last one.” Sherlock’s deep voice purred into John’s ear.  
John’s hands ran Sherlock’s back upwards, into the dark hair, he pressed him against his ear and neck.  
The words, the meaning and that promise, that Sherlock would never leave him behind, that he would never go away again, made him reach his orgasm.  
“You will!” John said with a moan. 

The orgasm rolled through his whole body, made him shiver, made him goose bumps. His eyes fluttered shut and open, again and again; his mouth hung open, his hands crawled into Sherlock’s soft hair. He came hard, between their bodies.  
Sherlock felt the ring muscle tightened around his cock, with the mixture of John’s moaning, his words, and the feeling of his coming – he reached his climax as well. He couldn’t hold back any longer, he let go and came with a lustful moan.  
“John!”


	32. Angelo's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a new beginning.

_Saturday, early evening, Potters Bar, John’s place._

It was a lazy day, in a way. At least their morning and the midday until 2 o’clock, they had spent in John’s bed. From Friday night until Saturday midday, they had shared and exchanged a lot of intimate kisses and touches. At first the handjob; then in the morning, Sherlock’s waking up blowjob – and then, they had shared their first time. It had been great and loveable, they both had enjoyed it in a deep way, had held each other afterwards – tight and safe.  
They had cuddled afterwards, had shared soft kisses and loving caresses.   
And Sherlock had been relaxed and cozy; gently and tenderly; silently and chatty.  
Probably they still would lie in bed, if both hadn’t needed to use the toilet and if both stomaches hadn’t rumbled.   
The day had been lovely; they had shared a shower, and when John had begun to cook, Sherlock had joined him without a word. They had cooked in harmony, as if they had done it a lot of times before.

 

It was early evening, the sun was still beaming into the garden, where John was sitting in one of the garden chairs. His feet were bare and stroked through the grass, every now and then.  
He was totally into his typing, that he didn’t hear the bare footsteps above the terrace and over the grass.  
Sherlock stopped behind John and bowed the head. He read out loud what he could see on the laptop screen.  
“One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them, One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them.” His dark and deep voice read. “It is only two lines of a verse long known in Elven-lore.” He read on. “Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky. Seven for the Dwa... ”

And John closed the document. 

Sherlock sighed.  
John turned his head around.  
“Sneaky genius.” He grinned.  
Sherlock grinned.   
“I could editing it for you, for the grammar and that stuff.”  
“No! You can not, Mr. Holmes.” John smirked. “I have no grammar problems. You have to wait.”  
“But I’m your boyfriend, or partner or significant other, however you want to call it. And I’m your best friend. I should have some extra rights and advantages.” Sherlock grinned.  
“No, you should not.” John laughed. “And, you already know more than the others. You know it’s about the ring and that the first one will become a movie. That’s all you get, genius.” John grinned and winked.  
Sherlock grinned at him. He bent down and kissed his head.  
“I will try it again in a few weeks.”  
John looked up and they both begin to laugh.

John turned around a bit more, when he stopped laughing. His hand reached out to Sherlock’s cheek.  
“Are you ready with your research, love?”  
“I am, darling. And I’m here, to ask you out on a date.” Sherlock smiled lovingly. “So... would you like to go out with me tonight?”  
John beamed up to him.  
“God, yes. I would love to.”  
“Do you fancy a dinner?” Sherlock beamed.  
“Starving.” John’s eyes shone bright into Sherlock’s.

 

\----------------------------------------  
 _Saturday, evening, London_

While John had changed his clothes, Sherlock had ordered a cab. He had told John that they would drive to London.  
John and Sherlock walked next to each other, enjoyed the mild summer air and the light breeze, which tousled both of them through the hair.  
Sherlock stopped in front of a restaurant.   
John had been totally distracted by the nice chat with Sherlock. And not to forget, his hand, which had held his hand, and the thumb which had caressed the back of his hand. John had enjoyed it really much. He was surprised when they stopped suddenly.  
John looked around, while Sherlock held the door open for John.

Their destination – Angelo’s

John turned the head to Sherlock and smiled at him widely.  
He entered the restaurant, and a happily smiling Sherlock followed him.  
Angelo stood next to them, immediately – out of nowhere.  
“Ahh... Sherlock and his date John. Your table is free, as always. Sit down, I get you two a candle, it’s more romantic.” And he disappeared.  
John smiled. This time he didn’t say a word about not-gay and not-his-date. He just sat down with his light blue button up shirt, and his navy blue trouser.  
And Sherlock sat down next to him, with his black Polo-Shirt and a dark blue jeans, which suits him very much.

Sherlock smiled to John, who returned the smile. He opened his mouth, but didn’t say a word. Angelo was with them again. He put down a candle, lit it and gave them the cards. He smiled his biggest smile, winked and let them alone, again.  
John grinned by Angelos sight. He turned his head again to Sherlock.  
“That was a really beautiful idea. I love it. It’s perfect.”  
“I’m glad you like my choice.” Sherlock smiled.  
“Very much. And I like your clothes choice as well. You look absolutely dashing.” John beamed.  
Sherlock flushed a bit and looked John in the eyes.  
“I like your shirt as well. And... I really love your beard... and... “ His eyes flicked to John’s hair and back to his eyes. “I should admit, that I really love your hairstyle.”  
John beamed and winked.  
“Thanks for those lovely compliments, love.”  
“You're welcome.” Sherlock smiled widely.

They ordered their food, and this time, also Sherlock ordered something to eat – like John, he ordered some salad and a pasta, and a glass of red wine.  
As comfortably silently as they could be, as chatty, they were tonight. As soon as they had ordered their food, they had begun a conversation about old cases, their chases through London, their first meeting, their flat sharing – the head, John had found some day in the fridge. They talked about Greg and Sally and Anderson, and they weren’t to stop during their meal.   
They had clinked glasses, had eaten and in between they had talked, laughed and smiled, by old stories.

John enjoyed the evening, as much as no evening beforehand. He was happy with his life; for the first time, he was really happy and comfortable with his life – in his head, in his heart, in his stomach and in every vein and fibre of his body.  
He had found a man, who had saved his life, who had made his life better, who had become a colleague, a friend, a best friend and his partner. His soul mate and the one man, the love of his life. Sherlock made him laugh, he made him smile, he made him angry and sad, and he loved in a way, all these feelings – because he knew, Sherlock would comfort him.

“I’m really happy, Sherlock. In a way, you’re my first partner, a partner, I can show the world without panicking; without panicking to be not accepted. Or to be more precise, I just didn’t care about it any longer. It’s the past, and I don’t want that the things I had once experienced, will affect my future. I’m so glad that we met, Sherlock. You’ve saved my life in so many ways, just by the fact that you appeared at the right moment. The last three years were really hard, but now you’re back, and I’m so happy to see you happy and healthy. I love your new haircut, and your new style with the clothes.” John smiled happily, and laid his fork on his plate. His blue eyes flickered lovingly across Sherlock’s face.  
“Wow... um, well. I don’t know what to say at the moment, darling.” Sherlock admitted with a shy smile.

John beamed at him.  
“You don’t have to say something. I wasn’t finished, anyway.” John winked. “You know, since we met, I had the feeling, that there’s more about you, that you aren’t the person you pretended to be. Since you're back, or since we’re together, I have the feeling, to know the real Sherlock. And I love it, I love to know the real Sherlock. That man, who’s sitting in front of me right now, that’s the real Sherlock.” John’s eyes scanned him with a huge smile. “A genius, who’s a bit arrogant and a show off, who’s a bit unsociable. A man who’s gentle, and chatty and shy, who’s funny, who cares and loves. I love that mixture so much, And I hope, one day you will be able to show it to the rest of the world as well. You’re such a likeable and loveable person.”

Sherlock bowed his head, he swallowed and draw little circles with his forefinger on the table.  
“Um, you’re right. Since I’m with you, I’m just me. It’s easy with you to be like I am. And it gets easier in front of others... like Mycroft.” Sherlock admitted. “You made me a better person, not just in the last weeks, I mean since the beginning. I’m glad we met, John. And for the first time in my life, I’m truly happy with it. I thought that love wouldn’t exist for someone like me and that love is nothing one would need, but in truth, I searched for it my whole life – and I found it in you, with you. I love you, John. I really do – I love you, with the bottom of my heart. And I love your kisses, your cuddles and hugs and pet names. And I’m sorry, that at the moment, you’re mostly the one, who starts a kiss and all these other things. It’s so new... and the real Sherlock, is a bit nervous and shy and not always as confident and sure as during his cases and deductions.” He smiled softly.  
John smiled a big, beaming smile.  
“There’s no need to apologize, love. I know it’s new, and it’s fine with me. I’m happy as well, and I know, someday you will be confident, with all these things. And... you know, just saying I love you, or giving a kiss, or a cuddle, doesn’t show love at all. It’s the little details. A date, a smile, a beam in the eyes,... joining during cooking, and a lot of other little things. And you do that already... so I know, you really love me.” John winked softly.  
Sherlock beamed, he squeezed John’s hand for a moment. 

Sherlock’s gaze wandered out of the window. There was a comfortable silence for a few minutes.   
He turned his head to John again and smiled.   
“Do you remember our first dinner here?”  
John smiled and grinned.  
“Yeah, Angelo put down a candle and gave me a thumbs up.”  
Sherlock needed to grin as well.  
“Yes, today we have candle as well. Do you remember our conversation?”  
“You told me what you did for Angelo and we talked about the baddie... and about archenemies. Um, and about friends and relationships. I asked you about a partner, because I wanted to calculate my chances.” John smirked.  
“Right.” Sherlock smiled. He bowed his head again. “Could we’ve that conversation again. Could we play it through? Just the relationship questions.” He smiled softly.  
“Well, yes. We can.” John smiled.

John sat up a bit more and looked to Sherlock.  
“So, do you have a girlfriend?” He asked.  
“Girlfriend? No. Not really my area.” Sherlock answered his question.  
John stayed silent for a moment, to remember what he had said a few years ago.  
“Alright. So you’ve a boyfriend? Which is fine by the way.”  
“I know it’s fine.”  
“So, you’ve a boyfriend?”  
“No.”  
John thought, Sherlock wanted to say yes, this time, so he was a bit surprised at the first moment, but then he played along.  
“Alright. Okay.” He looked at Sherlock and licked as lips, like he had done it a few years ago, to show Sherlock, that he was delighted by the fact, that he’s single and free. And this time he added his question, which he had wanted to ask a few years ago, this time he wasn’t shy. “So, would you like to go out with me?”   
His heart was beating very fast, which was a bit weird, because they already were in a relationship and on a lovely couple date-night.  
A smile beamed on Sherlock’s face. And this time he answered, what he would have answered a few years ago.  
“I would love to.” His deep voice said full of joy.

They looked each other in the eyes – blue met piercing silver-green.

 

It was a new beginning, a second beginning of their relationship, and this time, they would live it the way, they had wanted it a few years ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this story. I hope y'all have enjoyed it.
> 
> Thanks for all the Kudos and for all the comments and reviews.
> 
>  
> 
> A new Johnlock story is in progress. :-) And if anyone would like to give me prompts, I would love to write them. Just text me, I'm also active on Tumblr: freebatchwatson - as well as on Instagram: freebatchwatson  
> or on Twitter: janomartinJMC
> 
>  
> 
> Love,  
> Martin


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